


Nine to Five

by griever11



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Pining, Romance, The Office AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-10-20 21:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20682071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griever11/pseuds/griever11
Summary: The new receptionist at Oliver's office is weird, quirky and really cute but totally not his type. At all. Or so he tells himself.An Arrow/The Office AU.





	1. Chapter 1

“This is - oh, it’s not on? Right okay, okay. Turning it on. This is so weird...”

“Okay, here we go. So what should I do, am I supposed to just talk to you? Answer your questions, okay. I can do that. First question: Do I enjoy the fact that even as the CEO’s son, I’m just working as a sales rep for Queen Consolidated instead of helping run the company?” 

“Well... I come to work every day, spend a few hours on the phone selling whatever they tell me to sell and then I get to go back home and not have to worry about anything else. So basically, I get paid to talk on the phone… And it’s fine, I guess. It’s the easiest job ever, and it stops my parents from cutting me off from my trust fund so… [nervous laughter].” 

“Um, yeah, the people I work with are cool. They don’t care that I’m _me._ Some of them probably don't even realise who I am either. Except, well, Adrian's a bit of a pain in the ass, but I think it's because I'm new. But! We hired a new receptionist last month, Felicity, so I’m not the new kid on the block anymore which means the hazing should stop soon. Hopefully.” 

“Felicity? Well, she’s really pretty- uh, pretty good at her job, I mean. I don’t really know her. Why? Wait, did she say something about me? In her interview thing? What did she say? Come on -”

* * *

“How did it go?” 

He looks up from his phone at the question, smiling when sees Felicity peering at him over the top of her monitors, glasses glinting under the bright fluorescent office lights. 

He leaves his desk, ignoring Adrian’s pointed murmur of _ “You’re supposed to be working, newbie,” _and strolls over to lean over the reception counter. 

“Good, I think. I can’t believe we have to do this thing every day. How did your interview go?” 

“Fun! It’s not every day that I’m given free reign to talk, you know? Usually people tell me to stop talking, but these guys were all ‘Keep going, this is great!’ and I’m pretty sure they’re going to have a great time editing or whatever, but it was fun! Although, then they asked me if I enjoyed my job and how do you answer that, right? Because if I say no, then that looks bad, and if I say yes then I’d be - uh...” 

Her mouth snaps shut and she blinks at him guiltily. “Anyway, I said yes. Because I totally love my job.”

He doesn’t know much about Felicity, since she’s a new addition to the team, but today, he finds out that she’s a horrible liar. Her cheeks turns a pretty pink colour as she shifts her gaze to stare blankly at her computer screens. Interesting. 

He’s definitely curious about Felicity’s slip of tongue, but he doesn’t want to make her feel more uncomfortable so he ignores her gaffe instead, tabling it for another time. 

“I told them I’m enjoying myself at work too,” Oliver offers. “This job is hands down, the easiest money maker ever.” 

That makes her look up at him in surprise, pursing her lips in disbelief. “Not to - not to be offensive, but your bank account probably earns more interest in a month than any of us here make in a year without you having to do anything. That’s probably easier than all of this.”

Okay, wow. 

He’s taken aback by her bluntness, but somehow... it endears her more to him. He’s so used to people tip-toeing around the fact that he’s Oliver Queen or just outright ignoring it - like most of his other colleagues do - and having Felicity talk about the size of his bank account so casually is refreshing. 

“I’m trying to be a good role model for Thea.” He trades honesty for honesty. “I’m hoping it’s not too late, of course, but I think maybe seeing me in a steady nine-to-five job might I don’t know, convince her that drugs and partying isn’t the best way to live her life.” 

Felicity quirks an eyebrow at him, and oh, that’s _ cute. _“Little bit hypocritical, considering the kind of trouble you get into.” There’s a cheeky glint in her gaze and a ghost of a smile on her lips so he figures she’s not really judging him - even though he understands if she is. “But go you for being a good big brother!” 

“Well, I try,” he preens. He’s not sure what’s happening, but the small, not really even a real praise coming from her makes him feel all gooey inside. He decides then that he_ likes _that feeling. “I’m trying to be a better person in general.” 

“Mm. Might want to try to be better at your desk maybe,” Felicity murmurs, tilting her chin towards his desk behind him. 

He whips around and finds Adrian hovering by his screen, squinting at the display and finger-pecking at his keyboard. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he growls, storming over to his desk. “Back off!” 

“Since you prefer flirting over working, I thought you wouldn’t mind if I transferred some of your clients over to me so I can actually -,” 

“I wasn’t_ flirting,_” Oliver barks. “Go away, Adrian!” He elbows his frustrating coworker out of the way, sending his office chair rolling backwards, and tries to wrestle his keyboard out of Adrian’s dumb hands. 

What follows is not something he’s proud of, but Adrian lunges at him and instinct, together years of experience participating in bar brawls, means he ducks the attack with perfect timing, and then proceeds to tackle the other man to the ground. 

Adrian yells bloody murder, causing their HR rep to pop his head out of the Annex, and soon enough a crowd starts gathering around them. Roy, their intern who’s barely of legal age, starts collecting bills from the rest of their colleagues. 

“Don’t mess with my computer!” Oliver grunts, narrowly avoiding a fist to his face. He retaliates by kneeing Adrian in the gut, and Adrian howls pitifully before tapping his palm on the floor. 

Oliver scrambles to his feet, holding his hand out to help Adrian up. “Truce?” he asks as he eyes the documentary crew who are still filming them warily. 

“Fine, truce,” Adrian grumps, slinking away to his desk as he wipes his hands down his pants. He makes a point to wince and hiss as he sits back down at his desk, glaring at Oliver. “If I get any permanent injuries from this, you’re paying all my medical bills.” 

Oliver merely rolls his eyes at his dramatics. The crowd disperses around them with a collective sigh, disappointed that their entertainment for the afternoon is over. When Roy struts past Oliver on his way to his desk in the Annex with a suspicious smile on his face, Oliver lashes his hand out, catching him by his collar. 

“Give everyone back their money,” he tells Roy, staring at him sternly. “Now.” 

“Hey, no fair! They gave me -” 

“_Now, _ Roy!” 

The kid scowls at him, but relents. He digs a wad of bills out of his pocket and starts handing them back, grumbling surly.

Oliver’s mildly surprised when he stops at reception, sliding a crisp fifty dollar note across the counter.

He rolls his chair towards Felicity, careful not to leave the general vicinity of his work space - he’s a fast learner after all. “Felicity Smoak, I never would have took you for the gambling type...” 

Felicity shrugs at him. “You might be able to take a girl out of Vegas, but you can never take Vegas out of a girl.” 

A million questions fly through his brain. She grew up in Vegas? Or did she use to live there? How did she end up in Starling City? What exactly is her story?_ God, _he suddenly finds himself desperate to know everything about her. 

He’s dying to walk over to her and ask, but Adrian coughs obnoxiously loudly next to him and Oliver decides to save his questions for another time. He turns back to his computer, ready to actually do some work, when the small intra-office messenger window pops up with a message from Felicity. 

_ ‘For what it’s worth, my money was on you :)’ _

And the warm, gooey feeling in his chest returns with a vengeance.

* * *

Soon after that, Oliver makes it a personal quest - goddamn it, Adrian’s obsession with RPGs has seeped into his vocabulary - to get to know Felicity a little better.

He learns that she’s an only child to a single mother (God, you don’t want to meet my mother - ever), grew up in Vegas (You tend to pick up a thing or two about gambling when you have to spend most of your days and nights at the casino your mother works at because she can’t afford a babysitter), and that she graduated top of her class at MIT with two Masters degrees at nineteen. 

So why then, is she slumming it with him at one of Queen Consolidated’s under-performing sales divisions? 

_ Not _ that he’s complaining of course. Felicity’s by far the easiest person to get along with in the office, the _ funniest, _and she’s so smart that his prank wars with Adrian have reached a new height of sophistication that he never would have achieved without her.

_ “Overwatch to Arrow, target spotted, en route to rendezvous point, over.” _Her voice crackles in his ear through what just might be the world’s smallest Bluetooth earpiece. 

“Copy that, on my way,” he responds quietly, moving from his hiding spot. Sure enough, when he looks out the window, there’s a shadow skulking across the office back lot, making its way towards the building’s back entrance. 

_ “You’re supposed to say over when you’re done, over. _” 

He chuckles at the frustration in her voice. “I think you’re taking this a little too seriously, Felic-”

_ “No names! Oh my god, did you even read the briefing I emailed you last night? Over!” _

No, he didn’t read the fifteen page long email she sent him, but he isn’t going to tell her that. “Of course I did, _ Overwatch,” _he emphasises the code name he’d given her. “Over!” He adds hurriedly. 

_ “You never know who could be listening in on these things, jeez. Constant vigilance!” _She cackles to herself. _“Like Mad-Eye Moody, get it? Over.” _

No, he doesn’t get it, but having spent a good amount of time hanging out with Felicity means he’s very used to her often obscure (to him anyway) pop culture references so he lets it slide.

“I thought you were an IT genius, are you saying you let us use tech that could be compromised by some bored dweeb in his mom’s basement tinkering with -” 

He’s interrupted by a shrill whine in his ear, sharp and almost painful, before Felicity’s voice returns. 

_ “One, how _ dare _ you question my genius?! And two, you could be describing yourself, Mr. still lives at home with his parents, over.” _

“The difference being_ I’m _ not a bored dweeb,” he retorts. The elevator light flashes once, indicating that someone is getting on from the ground floor. “Oh, I think he’s here, going radio silent, over!” 

He creeps into the Manager’s office, crouching down and peering out the blinds just as the elevator dings. Footsteps echo down the short hallway and then Adrian’s silhouette appears, standing by the reception area, backpack slung over one shoulder. 

“Special Agent Chase reporting for duty,” he whispers comically into nothingness. 

Felicity sniggers in his ear and Oliver has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud. 

“Hello?” Adrian questions. “Is anyone here? I’m awaiting further instructions!” 

_ “Is he standing by the reception? Over.” _

Oliver frowns. How does she expect him to answer her when he’s supposed to be quiet?

_ “Oh my god, I knew you didn’t read my email! Ugh, I go through so much effort for your dumb pranks, and this is how you repay me? Tap once against your earpiece for yes, you jerk. Over.” _

He taps once obediently. 

_ “Good okay, stand by.” _ She must be excited about this too if she’s forgotten her own rule about - _ “Oh! Over!” _

God, she’s adorable. Cute. Amazing. 

Yes, he realises he’s got it bad for her, but it’s just a crush, like a stupid, juvenile, high school crush. He’s sure he’ll get over it eventually. She’s not even his usual type. 

He’s probably only crushing so hard because Felicity’s the only one in their office who gives him the time of day and seems to enjoy pranking Adrian as much as he does.

“Adrian Chase! This is your Overlord speaking!” 

He’s torn out of his thoughts by Felicity’s voice - no longer confined to his ear, but echoing through the dark empty office. It’s slightly distorted, but it’s still distinctively hers. 

Adrian startles, head whipping around. “Who - where are you?” 

“Do you have the package?” 

“I, uh... yeah.” Adrian pulls a box out from his backpack, still glancing furtively around as if he can see in the dark. “Here, yeah, I have it. Who do I give this to?”

“Just leave it on the counter -” 

“Why don’t you just show yourself!” Adrian interrupts suddenly, clearly frustrated. “This has gone on for too long, if I’m really a Secret Agent then -”

“Adrian Chase, a fax is going to come through right now, I’d like you to read it please. Out loud.” 

That’s Oliver’s cue. 

Oliver slinks out of the office while Adrian’s distracted by the incoming fax, creeping slowly until he’s right behind him. Adrian pulls the paper out of the machine, bringing it up to his face. 

Felicity laughs in his ear and his stomach does a somersault. _ “He’s going to kill you,” _she sing-songs.

“I, Adrian Chase, hereby... _ what the._.. hereby bequeath this package to the Supreme Lord of All Things... Oliver QUEEN?! _ QUEEN!!?” _

Oliver taps Adrian on his shoulder, ducks as the other man swings around with his arm outstretched, and grabs the box off the counter. 

“Thanks, man!” he chirps, grinning.

He pops the lid, revealing a four-pack of donuts as a warning of _ “You better save the one with sprinkles for me, Oliver!” _ comes through in his ear. 

“What the hell?! What’s the meaning of this?! You - you’re can’t -” Adrian goes red in the face, sputtering, before swinging his backpack at Oliver. “You got me out here in the middle of the night for a stupid prank?” 

“Thank you for your service,_ Special Agent Adrian Chase, _ ” Oliver laughs, deftly avoiding him. “Man, you really fell for this one, Adrian. _ Secret Agent _ Chase. Seriously. As if a federal agency would -”

“You didn’t do this by yourself!” His high-pitched whine only makes Felicity burst in peals of laughter again.

If the world ended right now, and Felicity’s laughter is the last sound he’ll hear before he dies - well, he thinks he’d die happy. 

“This has Felicity written all over it. _ You _don’t know how to send emails from the FBI,” Adrian snaps angrily. “I can’t believe you dragged her into this.” 

_ “Tell him I didn’t actually send emails from the FBI,” _Felicity gasps in between her cackling. 

“It may come as a surprise to you, but I can’t make Felicity do anything she doesn't want to do. Want a donut?” 

“No,_ my _body is a temple,” Adrian sneers. 

“Sucks to be your body,” Oliver shrugs the exact same time Felicity scoffs in his ear. 

_ “Come on. Does he know you have like, a million abs? Uh. Not that I’ve noticed. Or not noticed. I’m not actively not noticing you - I mean, sometimes you’re sweaty from the gym and your shirt sticks, so you can tell that you have... abs. Can you come out now, please?” _

He pictures her turning red, lips clamped shut together the way they always do after one of her adorable rambles. This time though, he feels himself turning a little red because, sure, he knows he’s in good shape, but to find out that Felicity pays attention to that too? 

Well. 

Interesting. 

“Yeah, you can stand there and smirk at me all you want, I’ll get you back for this,” Adrian growls, pointing a finger menacingly at him. “So you better watch out!” 

“Yeah, okay, I await your payback with bated breath,” Oliver winks, before gathering the box in his hands and waving. “Turn the alarm back on when you leave will you?” 

Adrian doesn’t follow him into the elevator for whatever reason - probably plotting his revenge in the office, not that he’s particularly bothered. Felicity’s already waiting for him by the exit in her little Mini Cooper when he walks out, engine idling. He stops short just as he gets to the passenger side door. 

“What - what are you wearing?” he asks as he pulls the door open, eyeing the beanie and ski goggles combo she definitely didn’t have on when she dropped him off earlier. He tries very hard to stifle his laughter but fails, and an embarrassing, choking noise escapes him. 

“My blonde hair kind of sticks out like a sore thumb at night, and I didn’t want to be spotted when Adrian arrived. I had my beanie, and somehow, also these goggles in the back seat and you know what? Laughing at your getaway driver is extremely rude, by the way,” she grumbles as she pulls off the goggles and tosses them into the back seat. 

“God, you’re ridiculous,” he breathes as he settles into his seat and draws the seat belt across his body. “Here, sprinkles just like you wanted.” 

She grabs it out of his hand, takes a large bite out of the donut and hums with satisfaction under her breath. She side eyes him critically as she chews.

“What? I’m sorry I laughed at you. Your disguise is very practical.” 

She swallows before handing him the rest of her donut. The car jumps into gear and they pull out onto the main road. “Nothing. Just... you’re fun. I have a lot of fun when I’m with you, that’s all.” 

His stomach flips, his heart expands like he’s the Grinch or whatever, and he really, really has to fight the urge to reach over the centre console to kiss her. Platonically. On the cheek. 

“I - uh, thank you. You know me, here for all your fun needs...” Fuck, that was stupid. “If you ever need fun -” _ NO _ that’s worse. “Anytime you want to piss Adrian off, I’m your guy.” 

Felicity takes her eyes off the road for a brief second to give him a strange look, but thankfully doesn’t acknowledge his awkwardness. Instead, a flutter of a smile graces her lips before she turns her attention back to the front. 

“No more late night shenanigans after this for me, though,” she murmurs, causing Oliver to arch his brow. “Cooper wasn’t too happy about tonight, but I told him we’ve been planning this for -”

Cooper? 

His ears fill with a loud rushing noise, drowning out most of what Felicity’s telling him. 

_ Who the hell is Cooper? _

“- and it’s not like he can tell me what to do, you know? But if he’s in town, I probably should put more effort into spending time with him before he goes on another business trip, so only day time shenanigans from now on.”

“I, uh... yeah, sure.” 

He’s glad that Felicity has to focus on driving and not on him because he’s sure he looks like a stunned goldfish at the moment.

All the time he spent convincing himself that the gorgeous, smart, funny woman sitting next to him wasn’t his type, he never once considered that other people would think that she's_ theirs._

And so with a churning, dreary, unexplainable pit forming in his gut, it dawns upon him with startling clarity that course - _ of course _someone as amazingasFelicity would have a boyfriend. 


	2. Chapter 2

_ “...” _

_ “...” _

_ “My name is John Diggle.” _

_ “I’m the warehouse foreman.” _

_ “Oh, you don’t like my answers, do you? Well tough. How about you take your dumb camera and shove it up -” _

[Camera turns off]

* * *

[Camera turns back on]

_ “Okay, apparently doing this happens to be part of my employment contract so I apologise for my behaviour earlier, what would you like to know today?” _

_ “Yes, I have noticed that there’s been a different... vibe in the office recently. Two of our sales representatives have uh, increased the intensity of their time-wasting, highly unproductive pranks on each other for some reason, and that’s very distracting for the rest of us. What do you mean that’s not what you’re talking about?” _

_ “Felicity? She’s great and really smart. Don’t know what she’s doing here with us, actually. But no - I.. what? Her and Oliver? No, I haven’t noticed anything different between them. Why would I?” _

_ “I don’t like gossiping about my colleagues.” _

_ “Look, they’re both really attractive, I’ll give you that. And sure, Oliver’s a flirt and Felicity clearly thinks he’s good looking since she’s always staring -” _

[coughs] 

_ “Like I said don’t concern myself with these things. Are we done? I need to get back to work.” _

* * *

John Diggle didn't lie to the cameras; he really doesn't like to poke his nose through other people’s business. In fact, he prides himself in being very removed from the utter nonsense that goes down in the office he works at.

Between the absolute chaos that transpires in the bullpen and the intern constantly harping on and on about whatever startup venture he’s interested in every other day, he’s amazed that any actual work gets done by_ anyone _in the sales team. 

_ His _team of workers, on the other hand, who manage the warehousing logistics for the company, don’t partake in such frivolities and that’s the way he likes it. 

Which is why he finds himself a little annoyed when he sees Oliver waiting for him in his office, leaning casually by the door when he returns from his lunch break. Oliver only ever seeks him out if he wants two things: a rush order on one of his closed sales or to beg him to participate in a stupid prank he wants to play on Adrian.

Only this time, based on the forlorn expression on his face, it looks like Oliver’s not here for either. 

“What can I do for you, Oliver?” John asks. He makes a show of shuffling the papers on his desk to look busy _ just _ in case Oliver’s loitering around to waste time and isn't here for anything important. "I've got a bit of work to get through." 

“Did you know that Felicity has a boyfriend?" Oliver blurts out, a little breathless.

The stack of paper in John’s hands thuds onto his desk at the unexpected question. He glances up at Oliver, realises that it wasn't a rhetorical question and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” 

Oliver pulls up a chair and sits down with a heavy sigh. Great. He’s clearly not leaving any time soon. “Felicity has a boyfriend! This _ Cooper _ guy who's out of town a lot or something. Did you know that? ‘Cause I didn’t.” 

Hm. Maybe he jumped the gun with his earlier assessment. This intrusion could be_ interesting _and not at all time-wasting.

Oliver had started with the sales team under less than usual circumstances, thrust into the workforce as his family’s last ditch attempt to get him to rehabilitate his self-destructive ways. There were some reservations on John’s part about how long the spoilt, rich kid would last slumming it among the working class, but he’d been pleasantly surprised by Oliver’s work ethic. After a while, once Oliver proved that he was in it for the long haul, they’d begrudgingly become cordial workmates. 

“She’s mentioned him now and again,” he replies carefully, not wanting to reveal more than he should. He takes a seat in his own chair because if this is going where he thinks it’s going, he’s definitely going to need to be seated. “But that’s none of my business, and honestly, none of yours either.” 

Oliver slumps forward, elbows perched on his desk, cradling his face in his palms. His voice comes out in a muffled groan of frustration. “She has never said anything about him to me. We’ve known each other for almost a year, Dig. What does that -”

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re so worked up about this, Oliver,” Diggle interjects before Oliver sends himself off the edge of whatever panic attack he seems to be having. He already suspects he knows why (he’s not stupid), but he would very much rather hear it straight from the horse’s mouth. 

His two colleagues have been circling around each other like hawks since Felicity’s first day at the office. They just _ clicked, _bantering back and forth across the bullpen, flirting harmlessly with one another. They’re both young, objectively good looking, and under different circumstances, they’d probably be a perfect couple. But Felicity's taken and Oliver's_ Oliver,_ so he had no reason to think that their relationship has been anything other than platonic.

Personally, he thinks it’s nice that Oliver found a friend in Felicity and she’s undoubtedly been a positive influence on him, notwithstanding the fact that he managed to rope her into masterminding a lot of Oliver’s pranks lately. 

They spend a lot of time together as a result of plotting their many childish games, so it’s never raised any red flags. Now though, watching Oliver work himself into a frenzy just because he’s learned of Felicity’s elusive boyfriend’s existence, John’s quickly reconsidering his earlier assumptions about the nature of their relationship.

“Have you met him? Cooper? What’s wrong with the guy, Dig? There’s got to be something wrong with him if she’s keeping him a secret,” Oliver’s laments, head bowed down, his words lacking his usual chirpy swagger. 

John shrugs. "Haven't met him, but I'm not particularly bothered." 

Lifting his head a fraction, Oliver narrows his eyes, like he’s trying to gain some form of sympathy from him. “I think that as her friend, it should have been something she talked about with me, you know? But she’s never brought him up. Ever.” 

John folds his arms over his chest, cautious that they’re about to cross into more than ‘cordial workmates’ territory. “And _ as her friend _-" he throws Oliver's own words back at him."- why does that bother you?” 

“It doesn’t,” Oliver insists, blatantly lying through his teeth. **“**But -” 

John scoffs. “Sure sounds like you’re bothered to me.” Pieces of the puzzle that is his colleagues’ relationship start falling into place. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding her?” 

_ “What? _ No. I haven’t been -”

“Those damn documentary people noticed, don’t try denying it.” He glances out of his office window, and sure enough, they’re there, lying in wait, cameras focused on them through the glass. 

“I...” Oliver sighs, but doesn’t say anything else. 

“You?” John prompts. 

“You told me not to deny it,” Oliver says obstinately. After a beat, he loses his bravado and his stubborn facade comes crumbling down. 

He sighs. “So _ maybe _ I’ve been avoiding her, but it’s because I feel weird about it, okay? What kind of woman hangs out with a guy this much if she has a boyfriend? It’s like as if she -” 

“Don’t even go there, Oliver,” Diggle jumps right in with a stern warning. "_You’re _ the one with the issues here. You don’t get to place the blame on Felicity for whatever is going on with you. Are you telling me that your friendship with Felicity is conditional upon her not having a boyfriend?” 

“No, of course not!” Oliver protests, looking scandalised. “Of course not,” he repeats, a little quieter. “I just... I don’t know.” 

John resists the urge to roll his eyes. This is so pathetic. The poor boy doesn’t realise how far gone he is on Felicity. An idea forms in his head. Vague and incorporeal, but hell, it’s an idea. 

As misguided as Oliver is, he’s not entirely wrong about this Cooper fellow. Why _ hasn’t _ Felicity introduced him to anyone at work? It’s not like there’s been a lack of opportunity; the office holds a lot of parties that partners are invited to and yet he’s made an appearance at a total of _ zero _ of them. 

Well. 

Nothing wrong with a little harmless meddling in his coworkers’ love life, is there? He clears his throat and puts on a mask of nonchalance. 

“You wanna know what I think? I think that you’re used to desperate women trying to get into your pants, that when you find out Felicity, all sweet and smart and pretty, obviously prefers someone else who _ isn’t _you, suddenly being her friend is too much effort.” 

He pauses for dramatic effect. 

“So, instead of talking to her about it like a grown ass man, your game plan is to avoid her until she decides_ you’re _ not worth the effort either, which means you get off scot-free and you can be on your merry way. No need for further explanations. Am I right?”

“No!” Oliver thunders, eyes flashing with anger. “That is not - that’s not what’s happening!”

Ooh, struck a nerve, did he? So predictable. 

John notices a few people turning their heads to look into his office and the film crew have definitely inched closer towards the window. He presses a button on his remote control to shut the blinds.

“You’re wrong.” Oliver scowls at him. “Felicity having a boyfriend has absolutely nothing to do with our friendship. I’m still - I still can... we’re still okay, and you’re wrong,” Oliver snaps. 

“It doesn’t matter that she has a dumb, secret boyfriend. She’s cool, and amazing, and that’s more than enough reason for anyone to be friends with her, and that’s what I am. Her friend.” 

Oliver stands up abruptly, chair scraping backwards noisily. “Thank you for _ nothing, _ Dig,” he scoffs, before storming out in a huff and letting his door slam shut as he stalks off. 

“Oh, you _ will _ thank me later, Queen,” he murmurs, a grin spreading across his face slowly. He’s about to return to his work when the door reopens. 

It’s Brian, one of the producers for the documentary, who sticks his head in, pencil behind his ear, glancing down at a notepad in his hand. 

“Would you like to reassess your statement on not butting into your coworkers’ personal business, Mr. Diggle?”

He responds by hitting the button on his remote, shutting the door in the producer’s face.

* * *

“Finally got your head out of your ass, have you?” 

John’s head shoots up at the iciness in Felicity’s voice, and then breathes a sigh of relief when he realises it’s not directed at him. He watches as Felicity walks into the lunchroom, heels echoing loudly against the cheap vinyl flooring with every step, followed closely by a_ very_ contrite-looking Oliver. 

They walk right past him, making a beeline to their usual table in the back of the room, convenietly behind him, too preoccupied with each other to notice that they’re not alone.

John returns to the club sandwich in front of him, but their continued heated conversation is terribly hard to ignore. It’s not like it’s his fault they’re being so loud, is it? 

“I said I’m sorry,” Oliver's saying over an exasperated sigh, as if he’s already repeated himself more than once before this. “I didn’t mean to make you think -”

“That you’re an asshole?” 

“Yes, and again, I’m_ sorry.” _

John moves his metal drink bottle surreptitiously to the side, catching the reflection of the couple behind him. They’re sitting side by side, heads bowed together. Oliver’s hands are on the table, ripping a serviette to shreds, knees bouncing nervously under it.

“You ghosted me for a week,” Felicity accuses, and John nods in support of her observation. Yeah, he did. And he deserves to be punished for it. 

“You keep _saying _I didn’t do anything wrong, but you won’t tell me _ why _you ghosted me, so where exactly do we stand now, Oliver? ‘Cause if you’re going to keep randomly be a jerk to me for no reason then I don’t think -”

“I _ won’t_,” Oliver insists. “It was a momentary lapse of judgement, and it won't happen again, I promise. Totally a me thing, not a you thing, and I’m working on it. I was being dumb, and took it out on you unfairly. Won’t happen again.” 

He can’t see the expression on Oliver’s face, but he sounds sincere enough, which isn’t something you hear every day from Oliver Queen, king of aloofness, and yet, here he is, one more heartfelt ‘sorry’ away from literally groveling at Felicity’s feet.

He watches as Felicity reaches a hand over to still Oliver’s fidgeting fingers. “Is everything okay, Oliver?” The steel edge in her voice has disappeared, as if she too finds Oliver’s raw honesty a little disconcerting. 

“Yes, yeah, I will be, if you accept my apology, that is. Please. I won’t survive without-” 

And that’s when Diggle’s half eaten sandwich slips from his grasp, falling unceremoniously onto the ground with a loud_ ‘plop’, _ drawing Oliver’s attention to him_. _

“God damnit!” Diggle growls in frustration. Great. Not only has he lost half his lunch, but it sounded like their conversation was just about to head into really _ good _territory and now he's not going to know what Oliver can't survive without.

Though he does have an idea what it is.

“Hey, Dig,” Oliver waves awkwardly, and _ wow _does he wish he has a camera on him right now because an embarrassed Oliver is a sight to behold. “Didn’t see you there.”

“How could you not have seen him? He’s huge, no offense, Dig. Actually, it’s more of a compliment. Your biceps are like -” Felicity makes a ball with her fingers, and then slowly pulls them apart. “- this big.” 

“You’re telling me you knew he was here?” Oliver turns to her in disbelief, and if it were possible, he goes even redder still. 

“We walked right past him, Oliver.” Felicity rolls her eyes, then tilts her head towards the empty space next to her. “C’mere, sit with us. Oliver bought extra fries for us, you can have some of mine since you dropped your sandwich.” 

See, this is why he likes Felicity. Selfless and kind, and_ definitely _worth all the effort that Oliver’s putting in to salvage their friendship. He gets points for that. 

John pulls up a chair to join them, ignoring the calculating, almost dirty look Oliver sends his way. If Felicity senses something amiss between the two men, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She asks about Lyla and about JJ, and their back and forth flows naturally for a good fifteen minutes. 

Oliver though, sits silently glowering, as if John’s presence is personally offending him and well, that’s just rude. It’s clear Oliver wants to finish his conversation with Felicity, but doesn’t want anyone else to be privy to it. 

There’s no point in denying that he overheard their conversation, but he’s not that cruel as to bring it up, especially since Oliver looks like he’s just about to throw up from embarrassment. 

What he does instead though, in hindsight, might have been a _ little _worse. 

“Listen,” he says around a rather delicious mouthful of hot fries. “I’m having a little gathering at mine on the weekend. For my birthday. You two should come.” 

Felicity makes a noise in the back of her throat, hands closing around his wrist as she leans forward, forehead wrinkling. “It’s your birthday? It wasn’t on the office calendar! Oh no, I need to -” 

“No, no, it’s alright.” He shakes his head. He’d specifically requested the last receptionist to drop his birthday off the list so that he didn’t have to go through the rigmarole of gritting his teeth through the sure to be extravagant office celebrations. 

“But please, you two come this weekend,” he tells her. He slides his gaze over to Oliver briefly before focusing back on Felicity. “And why don’t you bring Cooper along with you?”

* * *

_ “I’m sorry for the mess today. I tried to clean up as best as I can but turns out jello doesn’t really come off clothing that easily. You’re going to Photoshop this out, aren’t you? Good. Sometimes I think this prank war goes way too far but oh, the look on Adrian’s face when he found all his stationery inside jello this morning Priceless. So worth it!” _

_ “Oliver ratted me out and told Adrian that it was my idea, which you know, isn’t wrong, but all I only mentioned in passing that it would be funny if we did it. I didn’t tell to actually do it. It definitely wasn’t funny when he started throwing things around, that’s for sure. Exhibit A.” _

[Gestures towards red-stained blouse]

_ “Oliver promised he’d buy me a new shirt, which is nice of him. He’s been extra nice to me recently, since the whole ‘avoid Felicity for a whole week for no reason’ fiasco. It’s... weird. But weird in a good way, you know? People think he’s some arrogant, spoilt, rich kid, but Oliver’s just misunderstood. No one bothers to get to know him, because they think they already do, but I like giving people second chances and Oliver hasn’t disappointed me. Too much.” _

_ “He actually offered me the shirt off his back first, but that means he’ll be parading around shirtless and while that’s not an entirely bad idea... uhm. It’s totally not appropriate. Last night, he spilled bolognese sauce all over himself when he made us dinner - uh. For our movie night, not like dinner dinner with the implication that - um. Anyway. He spilled all over himself and just took his shirt off and wow, lets just say if he did that here, no one’s going to actually get any work done. And by no one, I mean me.” _

_ “... Can you take that off the record?” _

_ “What?” _

_ “There’s nothing - I have a _ boyfriend. _ Don’t look at me like that. Can I go now?” _

* * *

Diggle’s party is already in full swing when Felicity arrives. She doesn't like being late, but Cooper was being -_ Cooper _\- and had fought tooth and nail about coming to the party and it had taken her a whole half an hour of arguing with him before she put her foot down. 

Diggle specifically asked for her to bring him, and it’s his _ birthday _ so she didn’t want to refuse. 

“I don’t know why you’re being so difficult about this,” Felicity mutters as they walk through the gate. She hears Cooper scoff haughtily behind her and rolls her eyes. “Dig's is one of my favourite people at work, is it so wrong that I want to introduce you to him?” 

“Yeah, whatever. What kind of name is_ 'Dig'_ anyway?” 

On second thought, maybe she shouldn’t have asked Cooper to come after all. He’s clearly in one of his moods and no one should be subjected to such ugliness, especially on their birthday. 

“You know what, you can go," she decides. "Take the car, I’ll find my own way back." She wants to celebrate with Diggle today, and not have to wrangle Cooper like a wild animal and force him into being a decent human being. Extending him the invitation had been a mistake. 

“God, _ now _ you’re letting me leave? Why the hell would you ask me to come in the first place? Seri -” His testy protest is interrupted by a loud, very welcome, "_Felicity! You’re here!” _and she turns towards the booming voice gratefully. 

“Oliver! Hey!” 

He’s wearing a colourful, pointy cardboard hat, streamers spilling out from the tip and a grin that stretches from one ear to the other. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright and his arms are spread open as he approaches her. She can’t help but return his enthusiastic grin, feeling the bitterness of having to deal with Cooper fade away briefly as she takes him in. 

And suddenly they’re _ hugging. _

It’s not like they don’t hug, but they don’t hug_ like this. _Tight and all-encompassing, his arms securely around what feels like her entire body. His lips graze over her cheekbone, chest expanding and contracting against hers as he breathes her in.

Is he _sniffing_ her?

“Thought you weren’t gonna come,” he rumbles into her ear, and she swears she catches a light whiff of alcohol on his breath. “But you’re here, so everything is okay now.” 

“Why, were things not okay?” She pulls back, inching up on the tips of her toes to see past his shoulder. 

“It’s never okay when you’re not around,” is all he says before he unwraps himself from her, and her heart stutters to a near stop at his bluntness. He’s never been this affectionate before and even though a part of her preens at his attention, a larger part knows she’s wading through dangerous waters, especially when she can feel the weight of Cooper’s presence hot on her back.

“Um, okay.” She has to take a breath to re-calibrate herself. She steps away from Oliver and his strangeness, then gestures towards Cooper. “This is Cooper, my boyfriend.”

“Hi, Cooper!” Oliver greets brightly as he extends his arm for a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you!”

Irritation surges through her when Cooper just stares at Oliver’s hand, then in what seems like an attempt to exert some sort of dominance over the two, shoves both of his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

“You too,” he mutters. He tilts his head. “Oliver Queen, didn’t think I’d see you here.” 

“He works with me, I told you, remember?” Felicity remarks with false cheer, eyes darting back and forth between the two men. Something is happening between them, a power play of some sort. Oliver straightens his back as Cooper does the same. Stupid_ men. _ “Oliver-” 

“Plays pranks on people, yeah I know. Bit childish, don’t you think?” Cooper sneers. “But to each his own.” 

Oliver, to his credit, doesn’t rise to the bait, even though the light in his eyes fades a little. Tension simmers between the two men, and warning bells go off in Felicity’s head; she knows exactly how hot headed both men can be, and though she absolutely wouldn’t care if Oliver punched Cooper in the face right now, Diggle doesn’t deserve this. 

“Um, where’s the birthday boy?” she asks, stepping in between the two men just as a precaution. She mouths an_ ‘I’m sorry,’ _ to Oliver. “I wanna go say hi.” 

“I’ll take you to him,” Oliver says politely, the warm spark from before all but gone from his voice. He cuts a glance to Cooper. “Diggle will want to meet you too.” 

“Yeah, you know what, I’ll pass,” Cooper drawls. Surprised, Felicity turns to her boyfriend who merely shrugs at her. “You said I could go.” 

“But -”

“Yeah, not really my scene, babe. So, I’ll see you later, okay?” 

He turns around and leaves before Felicity has time to even register what’s happening. She watches his tall, lanky build disappear into the crowd and out of sight before she blinks the disbelief from her eyes. 

“Um, interesting guy.” 

Felicity cringes before turning to face Oliver. “Sorry you had to be part of that,” she mumbles, embarrassed to the bone. “He gets in these moods sometimes, and just... doesn’t think about anyone else except himself.” 

“You have nothing to apologise for.” There’s a sharp edge to his tone and he’s still staring in the direction of Cooper’s retreat.

She doesn’t blame him. She’s angry too; mainly at Cooper for being a goddamn douchebag, but also at herself because she shouldn't have forced him to come in the first place. And now, Oliver’s looking at her like he_ pities _ her or something, and she _ hates _that.

She’s not stupid. She knows Cooper can be a handful sometimes, but he’s also capable of being sweet and romantic when he wants to be. He’s also so incredibly_ brilliant, _ which is why she was attracted to him in the first place. Lately however, with his ever increasing business trips out of the city and less and less time spent together, she’s starting to see fissures in their already strained relationship.

And that’s without throwing _ Oliver _ into the mix, who, as the months pass by, keeps proving to be one huge surprise after another. Devastatingly charming on the surface, and strangely empathetic beneath that. Smarter and more emotionally complicated than the spoilt socialite he likes to pretend he still is.

Oliver, who doesn’t think her off-tangent rambling is annoying and in fact, usually waits them out because apparently he likes being able to _ hear _ the way she thinks. _ “I may not understand what you’re saying, but I want to understand how you get there,” _ he told her once, and at the time, that had been the most ridiculously sweet thing he’s ever said to her. 

Oliver, who’s still looking at her expectantly as if he’s waiting for her to tell him what to do. She suspects that if she tells him to run after Cooper and deck him, Oliver wouldn’t hesitate for even a millisecond. 

It takes a lot of willpower on her end to ignore what these kinds of thoughts might mean in relation to her relationship with Oliver - but it’s way too much effort (and too scary) to examine that right now - so ignore it she does, the way she’s been ignoring them from the moment she met him. 

“Just take me to Dig,” she huffs eventually, answering his silent question. 

He takes her hand, warm and comforting, lips curving upwards into a gentle smile. “As you wish.” 

* * *

“Why are you hovering?”

She doesn’t mean for the question to come out as snarky as it sounds, but if Oliver’s offended, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he takes her acknowledgment of his presence as permission to approach her. 

He left her alone for most of the afternoon, intuitively picking up that she wanted some time to herself, but even then, he hadn’t been far away, inconspicuously hanging around close by, ducking in and out of her peripheral vision. 

“Making sure you don’t single-handedly finish Dig’s entire stash of alcohol,” he replies easily as he joins her on Diggle’s back deck, leaning over the railing overlooking the backyard. Plenty of people are still around enjoying the bonfire Diggle set up earlier, but no one pays them any mind. 

Felicity drops her gaze to the beer bottle in her hand. “It’s good alcohol,” she says, just a little defensively. “Exotic.” 

“Yeah, Dig said Lyla brought it back with her from her last tour overseas,” Oliver tells her. “I like her. They fit well together as a couple.” 

The intensity with which he’s staring at her is unnerving and she turns away from him. She’s straddling the line between being tipsy and outright drunk, and deciphering that look his face would take too much brain power right now.

“Why aren’t_ you _drinking?” she asks instead, offering him her bottle. It tips precariously between her fingers and Oliver stretches out to grab it before it crashes onto the ground.

“‘Cause someone’s gotta drive you home later.” 

Oh. She blinks at him. Right. Because her asshole of her boyfriend drove home hours ago, leaving her stranded at the party. A fleeting rush of anger travels through her, before being replaced by gratitude for the man standing next to her. 

“Thank you,” she says over a sigh. “You don’t have to, I can catch a cab.” She says it more for courtesy’s sake. She knows Oliver won’t let her go home alone. 

“Forget it,” he tells her predictably. “I’m taking you home.”

They lapse into silence for a moment. It’s not uncomfortable per se, but Oliver’s vibrating with something, biting his lip like whatever he wants to say is right on the tip of his tongue but he’s just too afraid to voice it. 

“Just say what you want to say, Oliver,” Felicity tells him, putting him out of his misery. 

“Your boyfriend’s a dick,” he blurts out. And then he sighs and screws his eyes shut. He runs his hand down his face, but he doesn’t apologise. Good.

“How long have you been holding that in for?” A bitter laugh escapes her. “Never mind, don’t answer that.” 

“I can’t believe he just _ left _you here,” he continues. “And without saying hi to Dig! Even if he didn’t want to be here, the least he could do was stay for you.”

“I know,” she mumbles. “I _ know, _ okay.” 

Oliver’s arm lands around her shoulders in a bold move, especially when he pulls just a little, making her fall right into his side. He’s warm and safe, comforting, and for a second, she closes her eyes to just... enjoy it. 

Yeah, if this is how her day ends, with him by her side, cocooning her in warmth and safety, then regardless of what happened with Cooper, she’ll count this as a good day. 

It’s not that she hasn’t enjoyed herself at the party. Once Cooper left, she celebrated with Diggle properly, caught up with Lyla and took full advantage of their selection of food and drinks.

But knowing that she’ll have to deal with Cooper later makes her uneasy, and knowing that after what he saw, Oliver now probably thinks she’s a dumb pushover when it comes to him, is _ worse. _

Suddenly, she finds that she really wants to explain herself to him.

“You haven’t asked,” she murmurs, eyes still shut, the alcohol in her blood and the heat from the bonfire and from Oliver’s proximity lulling her into a nice, in-between state of drunk but also not quite drunk. She pops open an eye, only to find herself staring at Oliver’s jawline, forgetting that he’s so much taller than she is and that she’s basically plastered to his side. “About Cooper.” 

“Not my place to ask,” he shrugs, and it jostles her from her comfortable spot at his side. She grumbles at him and he laughs quietly before readjusting and tightening his hold on her. “But if you want to talk about him, I’ll listen.” 

The fact that she’s not surprised by the sincerity in his offer should be a surprise in itself, that is, _ if _she had the capacity to think about anything else besides how nice he smells and how good she feels right now, compared to how miserable she’d been before Oliver showed up. 

But she doesn’t, so she releases a contented sigh. “We were going for the same job, did you know? Here at QC.” 

“With the IT Department?” 

“No, we both applied to be receptionists with the Sales team,” she deadpans. And then she purses her lips. "How did you know Cooper works in the IT Department?" 

Oliver snorts, and then lets out an amused chuckle like he hadn’t expected that from himself. “Sorry, I ah, I guess I asked around about him. Just a little bit.” 

“Mmhm, thought so.” She elbows him in mock punishment before continuing. “We’ve been together since MIT, graduated, and then moved here. I interviewed for the position first, and probably would have gotten the job but I got into a bit of trouble in college with some not so legal hacking and I guess QC didn’t like finding that out when they did the background check on me.” 

“We were part of the same hacktivist group - messing around for what we thought was the_ ‘greater good’ _ ,” she clarifies. “But what Cooper didn't tell me was that _ he _wiped his record clean before submitting his application and... well, I didn’t.”

“Bastard,” Oliver curses under his breath. His hold on her tightens just a little. 

“So he got the job, but I guess felt bad for me after, because he put in a good word with his supervisor and um, here I am.” 

_ “Cooper _got you this receptionist job?” Oliver pulls back, and the look on his face is one of complete and utter disbelief. “You, with two Masters degrees from MIT, and that’s the best he came up with?” 

“Hey, don’t get mad,” she urges quietly. “I’ve been blackballed anyway, so it’s not like I could have gotten a job at anywhere else. _'Don't hire her, she's a good-for-nothing hacker!'_ . This receptionist thing is only temporary, if that makes you feel better. I have other projects I’m working on in my free time.” 

“So, what? You’re with him because you think you _ owe _ him something for getting you this job? Fel-”

“Cooper can be a really nice guy,” she insists, though at this point, she’s only saying it out of a warped sense of obligation, so ha, maybe Oliver _ is _ right. Wow. She never thought she’d see the day. “I don’t expect you to understand.” 

“Yeah, I _ don’t.” _There’s no malice in his tone, no trace of contempt or anger, just... possibly, disappointment. 

“Oliver...” Felicity twists around, ducking out from under his arm. Space. She needs space. Just a little. 

His forehead is wrinkled, lips pressed in a thin line. The sharp angles of his jawline are beautifully accentuated by the flickering bonfire light. The pale yellow-orange glow from the dwindling sunlight that falls over his profile casts shadows over his face that highlight his most prominent features.

He’s so _ handsome. _

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Felicity, but you deserve better. Better than the way Cooper treated you today, better than...” he falters for a second, eyes fluttering shut, chest heaving like he needs a moment to collect himself. 

“Better than _any of this._ You deserve the world, Felicity, and I don’t know why you can’t see that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy hump day! Hopes this helps you get over the mid-week slump. Comments, kudos and tweets are much appreciated :) 
> 
> Twitter: @griever_11


	3. Chapter 3

_ “This will be my second holiday season at the office, which is kinda nice if you think about it. It means I’ve stuck around for more than a year in one job, and more importantly, haven’t been fired yet, so hey, who said you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?” _

_ “Last year we had an office Christmas party and it turned out to be a lot of fun, surprisingly. This year, I’m going to suggest to our party planning committee that they change it to a Holiday party instead because not everyone celebrates Christmas. Some of us celebrate... um, Hanukkah.” _

_ “Uh, hm, sorry? Felicity is Jewish, yes, but I’m not... well, the suggestion wasn’t just for Felicity's sake... we should be inclusive of everyone’s religious beliefs.” _

_ “Right, yes the gift exchange!” _

[Pulls out a slip of paper excitedly from his pocket, unfolding it carefully]

"_Felicity! I was hoping to get her name, can you imagine it if I pulled Adrian’s name out of the hat? Or Roy? What in the world would I get Roy?"_

_ “Hm? Yeah, of course I've already got Felicity's gift. It's going to be great.” _

[Stares at slip of paper, smiling]

* * *

“I need help with John’s present.” 

Felicity dumps her lunch on the table, sinks into the chair opposite his and looks at him with round, pleading eyes. “Help.” 

“It’s called a _ secret _ Santa for a reason, Felicity,” Oliver admonishes, hoping she doesn’t expect him to return the favour by telling her who he’s playing Santa for. Because it’s_ her_ and he’s not spoiling her surprise early, because it’s a _ good _one. 

A great one. 

“Since when do_ you_ play by the rules?” she asks with a pout. “Anyway, whatever. As I was saying, I need help with John’s gift.” 

He half-listens to her, more interested in the fact that she has her pretty hair down today instead of her customary ponytail. Her blonde tresses fall in big waves down her shoulders, and they look soft, like _ soft _ soft and he’d give anything to run his fingers through her hair, just once, to see if he’s right. 

“- and since he’s expecting his second kid, I thought that would be a good idea. It’ll be a two-for-one kinda thing, you know? What do you think?” 

“I think all your ideas are good ideas,” he answers smoothly, pulling his fingers back from where they’ve been slowly inching across the table towards her. Thank God he’s pretty much mastered the art of being enamored by Felicity and listening to her at the same time. He rewinds the last couple of seconds in his head.

“He’ll love a talking stuffed bear," Oliver agrees. "Especially if you record some sort of greeting on it that he can change later.” 

“Ooh, yes. Awesome! You’re the best, Oliver.” 

He winks at her, playing off her compliment even though it fills him with stupid, warm, fuzzy feelings on the inside. He ducks his head, fighting the smile that’s forming on his lips.

He’s trying really hard to be subtle about his growing infatuation with her, something he can no longer pretend is a mere fleeting phase. Not since Diggle's party.

They haven’t talked about the party since he drove her home that night, when he walked her to her door and then kissed her cheek very platonically before driving off home himself. The feeling of her smooth skin against his lips still haunts him now, much like how his near-confession disguised beneath his flimsy_ ‘you deserve better’ _that sometimes plagues his dreams.

He thinks about bringing it up with her, but always ends up changing his mind at the last minute because no matter what he feels for her, she’s spoken for and while that’s never stopped him in his more carefree, younger, years, Oliver doesn't want to be that guy anymore.

Still, something changed between them that night, of that, he’s sure. Instead of shying away from him like he expected her to, Felicity, if possible, starts opening up to him more. 

He finds out that she’s Jewish, knowledge he puts to use immediately in the form of turning their Christmas party into a Holiday party. He also manages to weasel out of her the fact that she takes advantage of her IT prowess by freelancing on the side, setting up websites for small businesses, tinkering with little projects she thinks might come in handy in the future. 

With every tidbit of herself that she offers up to him, he spirals deeper and deeper into his doomed feelings for her, but he’s remains steadfast in his decision to not butt his lovesick head into her relationship with Cooper. He respects her, and by extension, whatever her reasons are for staying with him. 

Even if he _ hates _ them. 

“Have you sorted out_ your _ present yet?” Felicity asks, peering at him over the rim of her coffee mug curiously. She drags her chair closer to his, a blinding smile on her face, a picture of pure innocence. “‘Cause y’know, we’ve just established how good I am with gift ideas, and even if you already have something, you might need a second opinion. So. Tell me.” 

Oliver shakes his head, knowing exactly what she’s up to. Mysteries frustrate her, another gem he’s learned about her in recent days. Not knowing who his gift recipient is must be killing her. He smirks. “You’re not getting anything out of me, Felicity.” 

She purses her lips, huffs with discontent and then rolls her eyes. “Fine, but if your present sucks, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’.” 

* * *

“Why_ can’t _ we change the rules? We’ve already changed _ Christmas _ to _ Holiday _anyway!” Adrian half-yells at everyone gathered in the break room, snatching Roy’s Secret Santa gift out of the kid’s hands. 

“Because we bought our presents for specific people, Adrian! The iPhone is mine!” Roy hollers back, and for once, Oliver agrees with the kid. “You can’t just decide to change Secret Santa into Dirty Santa just because_ you _want to”

“Well, then everyone should have kept to the price limit! That iPhone is most certainly not $20 and under!” 

Oliver sighs, clenching his jaw in annoyance. “Adrian, come on -”

“No!” The man turns to Oliver, eyes flashing with irrational anger. “No, _ you _started this in the first place, you don’t get a say!” 

Oliver stands up abruptly, his chair skittering backwards. “Excuse me, how did_ I_ start this?” 

_ “You _decided to change our Christmas party into a Holiday party because of,” He makes air quotes around the words, “‘Jewish’ customs -”

Across the room, Felicity blinks at him with bewilderment. 

“- and then_ suddenly _ everyone’s breaking all the rules and buying expensive gifts, so since we’ve all just lost all sense of decorum why can’t we do Dirty Santa instead? I pick the iPhone, _ thank you very much, _ Roy.” 

Adrian turns around haughtily and sits back down, glaring at everyone. He cradles the coveted gift in the palms of his hand, Roy’s indignant protests falling onto deaf ears. 

Oliver has half a mind to go over and rip the thing out of Adrian’s hands, but before he’s able to, Diggle reaches out and holds him back. 

“Okay, everyone needs to just calm the hell down,” he growls, standing up. He’s a big man, looming and impressive, capturing everyone’s attention instantly. “It’s the season of giving. Let’s just... do this Dirty Santa thing, okay? Exchange your presents later or whatever if you want to. Can we just get this over with._ Please.” _

A murmur of assent spreads across the room, and although disgruntled, Oliver reluctantly agrees. There’s a chance that his sloppily wrapped (hey, he tried!), lumpy thing of a present won’t appeal to most of the people in the room. It’s not flashy, not like the dumb Apple logo emblazoned on Roy’s present, but it_ is _ wrapped in paper adorned with spaceships and planets and maybe that means Felicity might pick it anyway?

He sneaks a glance over to the woman in question, giving himself a second of reprieve to appreciate the way her blue Santa hat sits just a little off-centre on her head, a brilliant contrast to her pretty blonde hair. 

She’s wearing an ugly Hanukkah sweater, little dreidels and menorahs printed all over it, and even though it logically shouldn’t, the way she wears it so proudly makes her even more gorgeous in Oliver’s eyes.

Felicity’s talking quietly to Roy while the rest of their colleagues go about picking or stealing each other’s presents. He’s (obviously) more interested in Felicity than the office shenanigans, so he scoots his chair closer to her and overhears Felicity tell Roy that he could technically steal the iPhone back from Adrian if he wanted to. 

“I mean, you’d have to fight me for it, but I think I can take you.” 

Which is when his heart plummets into the depths of his stomach and he feels his insides curl up with dread. 

Duh,_ of course _ Felicity wants the fancy new tech gadget.

How did he ever think that the stupid collection of knick-knacks specifically picked out for her because of their inside jokes, stuffed into a Tardis coffee mug that glowed in the dark, could compete with _ that? _ His gift would be worthless to anyone else but her and _ definitely _ worthless next to an _ iPhone. _

His grand plan of giving Felicity the best Hanukkah/Christmas present ever disintegrates into thin air. He scowls to himself, staring at the misshapen lump that mocks him from between a big, red, glittery box and what is obviously a wrapped picture frame and he internally curses whoever Roy’s Santa is for royally screwing everything up. 

The iPhone changes hands three more times before Oliver gets a turn. Felicity’s still glowering in her seat, mildly offended by Laurel’s snide, “You don’t even celebrate Christmas, why do you get a present?” as she has the iPhone taken away from her. 

Roy’s staring dumbly at the bear that was meant for Diggle, and there’s a general air of discontent that’s threading its way among everyone in the room.

The silver lining to all of this though, is that no one’s touched Felicity’s gift, so when it’s his turn, he strides over purposefully to the tree and picks it up, cuddling it protectively against his chest. “I pick this one,” he mumbles before taking his seat again. 

“Why?” 

Oliver shoots a dirty glare at Roy. “Why not?” 

“Why don’t you want the iPhone? Do you know something we don’t? What’s in that one?”

“It’s none of your business Roy,” Oliver grunts. “Go get your iPhone.” 

“No, I want to see what yours is first,” Roy declares petulantly and it’s never been more obvious than it is now how much of a child he is. Stupid intern. 

Eight pairs of eyes are zero in on him and even Adrian manages to peel his off the iPhone currently nestled in Laurel’s lap to look at him with mild interest.

Oliver starts unwrapping his own gift with a heavy sigh. He’d pictured Felicity doing this, her brightly painted nails skimming the paper carefully as she unpicks the tape. He had imagined her cooing at the cute spaceships, imagined her eyes lighting up when she finally opens the gift and finds what’s inside. 

Instead, here he is carelessly tearing the wrapping apart, desperate to get all of this over with before someone notices how his mood is steadily declining with every second that he spends in the break room. He keeps his eyes cast downward, focused on his fingers until all the paper is gone, ripped to shreds on the floor, which coincidentally is exactly how _ he _ feels, so thank you, Universe, for that. 

“Just a mug,” he announces, waving the bright blue thing in the air though he does take extra care so the contents inside the mug don't spill over. “There, happy? Just a stupid mug.”

* * *

_“No, I’m not upset. Why do you think I’m upset?” _

_“Well, just because everyone is in there enjoying themselves doesn’t mean I’m not enjoying myself out here. I’m perfectly content right now. Just fine. The music is terrible anyway, I don’t know how anyone can dance to that.”_

_“I - no, stop. I already told you I’m not upset. Listen, how about you go and join them in there, huh? Stop filming us for once, and enjoy the party. Sheesh. Leave me alone.”_

* * *

Somehow, even awash with bitter resentment at how completely unpleasant the office party is turning out to be, Oliver finds himself unable to leave. He‘s tried, oh, he’s tried. But every time he takes a step towards the elevator to leave, he’ll catch a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye, or hear her laughter through the walls, louder and more boisterous than usual, and he ends up changing his mind. 

He saw Roy spike the fruit punch earlier, and the eggnog Felicity’s been drinking all evening is most definitely stronger than it should be. That means she’ll need a ride home later and that’s why he’s sulking in the corner of the office by the reception area, hunkered down in the darkness. 

To make sure she gets home safely and not... for any other reason.

Definitely not because Felicity’s taking time off from work over the holidays to go visit her mother in Vegas and he wants to spend as much time as he can with her before she leaves. Nothing to do with that at all. 

He turns the (her) mug in his hands a few times, taking in the intricate white detailing in the ceramic. He remembers the first time he heard of this Doctor Who TV show, the name falling from her lips as Felicity rambled on about it on her first day. 

He hadn't noticed her when she walked in; she was the fifth receptionist that they had hired in the span of a month and Oliver didn’t like concerning himself with people he’d never see again. 

But then she made an off-handed comment about, of all things, his arms - his biceps, specifically, immediately back-tracking the moment she realised that she’d_ ‘said it out loud’, _blushing furiously, wringing her hands as she goes off on another nervous tangent about not wanting to be fired for sexual harassment on her first day of work. 

“Sometimes I wish I had a Tardis for my stupid lack of filter, you know?” 

Oliver had just shrugged, his interest piquing as he took her in properly for the first time. “I don’t mind you ogling my biceps,” he replied easily. “You’re fine. What’s a tardis?” 

Which was when she launched into an elaborate, way too involved, history of the show that wasn’t actually about doctors at all. 

He’s cherished the memory for nearly a year now, his first one of her, unbeknownst to him, already starting to fall for the odd, yet strangely endearing woman sitting across from him chattering away about time travel and screwdrivers. 

Naturally, when he chanced upon the mug one day as he was strolling through the Star City mall, he’d bought it immediately. It was a spur of a moment decision, stupid and sentimental, and while Oliver Queen doesn't usually do stupid _ nor _sentimental, it felt right. 

_ So _right that after buying the mug he started picking out other sentimental trinkets that relate to different points in their friendship over the past year. Little things that he hoped would remind her of him while she goes on vacation in Vegas. 

He didn’t know then that his dumb gift would end up being back in his hands tonight. Just as well, he thinks. It’s probably a sign from the universe, the same one that loves to kick him when he’s already down, that he’s already wading too far in the deep end of his (unrequited) feelings for Felicity.

Sinking lower into the squeaky vinyl couch he’s been moping on for the last half an hour while he waited for Felicity, he closes his eyes for a brief moment.

He should really try and move on from Felicity while she’s in Vegas. It’ll be easier than trying to move on while she’s here, haunting his every waking (and sometimes sleeping) hours with her constant presence and besides, in his experience, the holiday season is the perfect time for casual hookups and -

He cringes as the thought crosses his mind. Yeah, maybe not casual hookups. Not this time. 

“Uh, are you sleeping?” 

Oliver jerks at the sound of Felicity’s voice, his eyes flying open in surprise as he scrambles not to drop the mug in his hands. How did he miss hearing her approach?

She’s standing over him, eggnog in one hand and a garish. brightly coloured oven mitt in the other, eyebrows arched with question. Her hair’s a tangle of messy and wild curls, her cheeks flushed from all the dancing. Her glasses sit a lower than usual on her nose, having slipped from the light sheen of sweat on her face. 

She’s so pretty. 

“No,” he grumbles, righting himself on the couch. “No. Just... resting my eyes.” 

“_Ooo-_kay.” Felicity spins around on the balls of her feet and without warning, flops backwards onto the couch, right next to him. “Oof. That was... a longer way down than I thought,” she murmurs. 

“How drunk are you, exactly?” Oliver asks over a breath of amusement. The only other time he’s seen her drunk was at Diggle’s party, but she wasn’t as far gone then as she is now. 

“Dunno. A lot drunk, probably. The eggnog’s really strong and I had a lot of it,” she comments. “S’good though. Hey, I traded some stuff around, so you can give me my gift now.” Oliver has to duck out of the way as she waves the oven mitt in his face, grinning at him. 

“I gave the photo frame that I ended up with to Roy, who gave me Dig’s talking bear, which I traded for this oven mitt, which is yours, apparently, because Roy said you cook, do you cook? How come I didn’t know you can cook?” 

She stares at him for a beat, then shakes her head. “Anyway, here I am, trading your mitt for my mug. “That_ is _ my mug, isn’t it? And you’re my Santa?”

She looks so proud of herself, like she’s just solved the biggest mystery in the universe, and just like that, being around her - basking in the_ Felicityness _ of it all, all traces of his earlier bitterness is wiped away. She’s still waving the mitt in the air, bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“Can I have my mug please?” 

“How’d you know it’s yours?” he counters with a smirk, plucking the oven mitt out of her grasp before she takes his eye out. It frees up her hand and she leans in to make a grab for the Tardis but Oliver’s quicker. He yanks it back, just out of her reach. “Presumptive, much?” 

“‘Cause when I chose the iPhone earlier, you looked like I killed your favourite pet. Besides, who else in the office would appreciate a Tardis mug, Oliver? Duh.” She rolls her eyes at him, lurching forward for the mug again. 

He gives it to her this time, handing it over carefully. “There’s more inside,” he tells her, indicating with his chin for her to look inside it. 

“Oh, cool!” 

She takes a minute to pull the contents out, and he almost misses the pleasant huff that escapes from her lips because his heart is pounding erratically in his chest. 

God, he needs to get a grip. 

When she looks back at him, it’s with a gaze so soft and so pure that it stuns him. He’s rooted to the spot, entirely captivated by the way she’s glowing, an awed smile spreading over her lips.

“This is-” Her tongue darts out to lick her lips and her blush deepens. “-from...” 

“The diner we’re banned from forever,” he finishes for her with a smug smile. “And now you’ll have a token to remember it by.” 

He plucks the little packet of sauce from her slim fingers, examining it for himself. “I realised that I took a few home that night before we were chased out for being too loud.” 

“First time I’ve ever been banned from anywhere before. You’re obviously a bad influence on me,” Felicity muses, taking the packet back and dropping it into the mug. She fishes something else out from inside it. “And this - oh,_ Oliver!” _

He grins. He’s really proud of this one; a tiny little Lego piece that looks exactly like her, from the blonde ponytail, wearing a pink blouse and an A-line skirt, right down to the little glasses on her face. 

“Remember when you said it would be cool if you had an action figure modeled after you?” 

Felicity, still staring at the toy, nods wordlessly. 

“Well, this isn’t an action figure, but -” 

He’s interrupted by Felicity making a strangled noise in her throat, and then she’s flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him. “Oliver, I_ love _her. I love her so much.” 

Her cheek is pressed against his, warm and soft, the frames of her glasses pressing into his skin. She smells like vanilla and chocolate and okay, there’s a hint of alcohol wafting under his nose that betrays just how much eggnog she’s had but Oliver doesn’t care about that right now. 

“Thank you for my present, Oliver,” she whispers before she pulls away, much too soon for his liking. The space between them is practically non-existent, thighs pressed together, arms brushing against one another as they sit side by side on the couch. 

“I guess that’s why you didn’t want anyone else picking your gift. Wouldn’t have meant anything to them. This - this is amazing, Oliver. Best present ever.”

Oliver lets out a gentle chuckle. “You’re welcome. Actually, if I realised we weren’t keeping to the $25 limit,” he casts a sidelong glance at the silhouette of their boss through the frosted glass wall. “I would have picked more stuff up, ‘cause y’know, you deserve it.” 

Ah. Crap. He wasn’t supposed to say that out loud. There he goes again, revealing way too much about his stupid _ goddamn _ feelings and now Felicity’s staring at him with an odd look on her face. The quiet whirring of the air-conditioning system fills his ears, white noise against the muted sounds from the office party still going in the break room. 

Felicity’s frowning, her eyes darting back and forth between his face and the mug in her hands. It’s clear that something’s on her mind, and for the millionth time since he’s met her, Oliver wishes he’s better at reading her.

“Hey, let’s get out of here for a second,” Felicity says after a moment. “I want to tell you something.” 

Huh. Okay. That’s unexpected. 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it however, because Felicity’s already walking away, striding with purpose towards the elevator. Oliver hurries after her, only remembering to grab his oven mitt at the last minute because despite being a simple gift, it’s still practical and he will have a use for it eventually so-

“Oliver, come_ on.” _The hint of exasperation in her voice jolts him out of his thoughts.

Oliver manages to just slide between the closing elevator doors, cocking his head at her as she jabs at the button for the roof. “You’re being weird,” he states. “Was it,” he sucks in a breath. “Was it something I said?” 

“Yes... and no,” she replies cryptically. The doors slide open before she can elaborate, and she marches out without another word. He follows her out quietly, resigning himself to the fact that he’ll probably follow her anywhere if she lets him. 

They end up on the very edge of the rooftop, overlooking the empty parking yard and further in the distance, the twinkling city skyline. The abundance of Christmas lights and decorations adorned on the other buildings within sight makes everything look _ so pretty, _snatched right out of a greeting card, and Oliver’s heart aches at how in another life, or another universe, this could have been perfect for a romantic rendezvous for them. 

“So I... um, kinda also have a present for you too.” 

Oliver tears his eyes away from the view, turning to look at Felicity with increasing curiosity. “You not my Santa though.” 

_ Really? _That’s what his stupid brain comes up with? Stupid, dumb -

Felicity shakes her head. “No, but I still... it’s still a present. Sort of.”

She’s not looking at him, instead she’s focused on the horizon, chewing on her bottom lip. Her fingers twist together, a sure sign of her nervousness and all of a sudden terror zips through his blood as he thinks of the worst reasons she needs to say whatever she wants to say to him in private. 

But none, _ none _ of them come close to what she actually says, over a quiet, almost amused exhale of air: 

“I broke up with Cooper last night.”

His jaw drops. The oven mitt falls from his hand. Hope springs in his chest. 

”You br-” 

Felicity cuts him off by launching into a rapid-fire string of sentences, words tumbling like an avalanche from her lips.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, since Dig’s party, about what you said to me. About deserving the world. And last night Cooper got angry that I decided to visit my mother instead of staying here with him for the holidays, which, by the way, is ridiculous because he’s away on business trips all the time anyway, so me staying here is the stupidest, most selfish thing I’ve ever heard, but that’s Cooper for you. Selfish prick of a -” 

_ “Felicity.” _

His almost-anguished call of her name makes her stop abruptly, eyes fluttering shut as she lets out a nervous chuckle. “Right. You... don’t need to know that. The point is, in the middle of his stupid, selfish, patronising rant about me leaving him for the holidays, I realised that I did - I _ do - _ deserve the world, or at least, better than _ Cooper, _ so I broke up with him, and that, Oliver, is _ my _Christmas present to you.”

He’s dumbfounded, ogling at her with his mouth open like an idiot, but for the life of him, he can’t seem to form a coherent sentence from the tangle of _ whatthefuckisshesaying _ that’s swirling in his head. 

The dissolution of her relationship with Cooper is her gift to him? The spike of adrenaline that rushes through his veins at the thought gives him a head rush. 

“So I guess I’m... I’m single now.” Felicity exhales heavily. She reaches out to him, hand gripping tightly around his bicep and Oliver can feel her trembling. 

“Wow, _ wow, _ I think that’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and... whoa. It feels good. Thank you Oliver. Thank you for... for giving me clarity. For making me realise that I deserve so much better than him.” 

His heart thumps rapidly loudly his chest, _ deafening, _ really, and everything else around them falls away, leaving her - just Felicity - standing in front of him, emanating happiness and joy and she may be Jewish, but she’s most definitely _ his _Christmas miracle. 

He swallows the wave of anticipation rising from the depths of his soul and he knows he should adjust his expectations because he’s a realist, but he can’t ignore the rush of excitement in his veins. 

He can’t ignore the way Felicity is slowly inching closer to him as the seconds tick by, breath visible as puffs of air in the cold winter night, and he_ definitely_ can’t ignore the way her fingers slide up his arm to curl around his neck, warm against his skin, pulling him forward so their foreheads brush against each other.

The lump in his throat prohibits him from speaking, not that he knows what to say anyway. His eyes flutter shut, savouring the moment. 

He’s dreaming. He’s got to be dreaming. He curves his palms on either side of her waist, anchoring her there, and then he _ knows _ he’s not a dream because after _ that_, her lips are on his. 

Real and tangible, soft and fleeting and barely even there, but she’s_ kissing _him. 

His brain short circuits and it takes him far too long for him to come to his senses and before he has the capacity to respond, she’s already pulling away and it’s all over. 

His body screams at him, cursing him for being so fucking slow and dumb and why didn’t he kiss her back?! Was he that much of a stupid piece of - 

Felicity sighs. “We can’t.” 

_ What?! _Oliver jerks himself backwards, away from her. 

“I mean... not. _ Can’t _ cant.” Her voice wavers. Trembles with regret. Her fingers fall away from his neck, but then wraps around his biceps, as if she’s trying to keep him from leaving. 

Because he wants to leave. His heart - his stupid, dumb, gullible, heart is splintering into pieces and of course he needs to leave. 

“Just not _ now,” _ Felicity says. Hurriedly. “I just... broke up. Last night. I don’t think we should start anything... now.”

“Not now?” he repeats, hollow and hoarse. He feels his throat close up. Invisible hands tightening around his heart, squeezing the air out of him. Why does this _ hurt _so much? “But -” 

But she kissed him! 

She kissed him, and okay, sure it was more like a _ touch _ of her lips against his which, if he really thinks about it, probably only lasted like three seconds at best, so it’s not like they were making out and she’s suddenly changed her mind and decided he’s not worth the trouble.

Even though it feels like that’s exactly what she’s done. 

“I don’t understand.” A gust of cold wind blows past them, taking his words with it. “Why did you -”_ Kiss me? _

Why did you give me the best 3 seconds of my entire life, only to rip it right out of my hands as easily as hitting delete on one of your beloved tablets? 

He doesn’t voice any of that though, holding in the despair and desperation, fists balled by his sides. He screws his eyes shut, clenches his jaw, willing himself to get a goddamn grip. She’s not saying no, he tells himself, just _ not now_, so this extremely visceral reaction is completely unnecessary, and yet... . 

“Oliver, I just need time, okay?” Felicity insists quietly. “Let me go home to visit mom, take some time for myself, and when I come back after the holidays...”

Oh, he forgot she was leaving for the holidays.

“You’re - you’re going home for a month,” he mumbles. His eyes blink open at the reminder, releasing a breath of air as he stares at the ground between them. She’s wearing her panda flats tonight, he hadn’t noticed that earlier. He likes her panda flats.

He likes so many things about her. 

“And when I come back, we can... talk about this?” The hesitance is unfamiliar coming from Felicity. She sounds unsure, like she’s compromising somehow, placating a child having a temper tantrum and it doesn’t sit well with him. 

Her fingers slide down his arm slowly, leaving a trail of bitter want and reluctant acceptance in their wake. When he dares to look back up at her, it’s little comfort to see the tinge of sadness reflected back at him in her expression. 

“Okay.” He resigns himself to his fate. What else is he supposed to do, stomp his feet like a child and insist that she be with him immediately? Pick a fight with her just because he wants_ them _so much that sometimes he dreams about her at night? How does that make him any better than Cooper? 

“Yeah, okay,” he repeats, even though right now, he is anything_ but._

* * *

_"Hey, hi! Nice to see you guys again, I guess. Though I will admit, having a month off from cameras being shoved in my face recording everything I did was really, really amazing.” _

_ “Being home and seeing my mom again was also good, for a while. There’s only so much Donna Smoak a girl can handle you know? Small doses, is what’s best when it comes to mother-daughter time - sorry, what did you say?” _

_ “Oliver?” _

[Seems agitated, starts fidgeting in her seat] 

_ “What about Oliver? Oh! Speaking of, his sister, Thea? She started working with us part time as our Media Coordinator. Isn’t that nice? I guess over the holidays, Oliver finally convinced her that partying her teens away is a bad idea and she’s taking a leaf out of his book.” _

_ “What do you mean that’s not what you’re talking about?... Right. You heard about that. Yes, I did break up with Cooper before the Holiday party. Still broken up too.” _

_ “God, why are you guys so focused on Oliver? Ugh, fine, fine. I thought that when I came back from Vegas, we could - we would... I mean, yeah, now that I think about it, he’s Oliver Queen, duh. He isn’t waiting around for some I.T. girl to find herself. Ha! Anyway, I haven’t had a chance to really catch up with him since I’ve been back. Not that - not that I haven’t tried, but it’s probably because he’s uh...” _

[Turns around to peek out the window blinds]

_ “He’s... seeing someone.” _

_ “Romantically.” _


	4. Chapter 4

_ “I know what you’re going to ask me. Adrian, can you please, please figure out what’s wrong with everyone in the office? Well, let me ease your worries, fine folk. They don’t call me Adrian Chase, Junior Private Investigator for nothing. It may only be an online certification, but it counts! So don’t worry, this P.I. is on the case.” _

_ “The facts are these: Things have been a little off in the office lately. The intern has been mooning over the new part-time hire, which means he's not doing any actual work. Felicity took an extended break over the holidays, which is strange because she like, never stops working, and the weirdest and most annoying part? Oliver’s stupid pranks have been _ terrible. _ Primitive. He’s not putting any effort into them and frankly speaking, it’s disrespectful. To me, and to the fine balance of alpha-male competition that we have here in the office.” _

_ “They used to be challenging, you know? Smart. Worthy of my attention. Never as good as mine, of course, but still good.” _

[Glares at camera]

_ “But since the holidays, they’ve been unimpressive and juvenile and I don’t like it. No, sir. I’m not going to take all this ‘patheticness’ sitting down and I’m going to get to the bottom of this weirdness if it’s the last thing I do!”_

* * *

The office is dark and empty when Adrian walks in on Friday, as it usually is. He makes it a point to be the first person in every day so he can run a full sweep for bugs that their rival companies might have installed overnight. 

One cannot be too cautious about these things. 

He has a routine when he arrives; disable the alarm, refrigerate his lunch, power up his workstation and then watch smugly as everyone else starts to trickle in. Today is no different. The hum of his computer turning on fills the office as he settles in, spinning his chair once to make sure no one (Oliver) has done anything to it. 

He examines his desk with meticulous precision - he’s been burnt before by exploding stationery and he’s learnt his lesson - and once he’s sure nothing is out of place, pulls his keyboard closer so he can start typing his password in. It’s annoying really, how uneventful his mornings have been recently. 

It’s almost as if Oliver’s been replaced by a more stupid, lame, docile version of pre-holidays Oliver. _ Hm. _

He scribbles it down on a post-it note._ Investigate possibility of doppelgangers. _

The tinkling of the bell hanging by the door makes him look up and he makes a small wave as Felicity walks in. She’s nearly always the second one in the office and he’s glad that she’s back from her extended leave to reinstate that part of his daily routine.

And then he remembers that she’s also kind of his quasi-nemesis and he slams his hand back down onto his desk. No waves for any of Oliver's accomplices. “You’re late,” he snips. 

Felicity barely spares him a glance as she shrugs her bag off her shoulders and sinks into her seat at reception. “I’m actually ten minutes early, thank you very much.” 

“But you’re usually fifteen minutes early, which means_ today,_ you’re late.” 

“And it’s too_ early _ for your nonsense," Felicity groans. "Can you at least wait a couple of hours before you start bothering me?”

Hm. He swivels around, tapping his pen against his chin at her very un-Felicity like attitude. Actually, now that he thinks about it, she’s been like this coming back from wherever she went to over the holidays. All weird and stuff, and not just the fact that she’s the only one who took an entire month off (Who does that? Does she not love her job?), but she’s been... subdued. Less cheerful. 

In the week that she’s been back, there’s been significantly less flirty laughter across the bullpen, less loitering around Oliver’s desk whenever she has nothing to do, distracting them both, and definitely less Oliver falling over his feet trying to impress-

_ OH. _

  


He could smack himself. Honestly. 

Springing from his seat, he makes a beeline for Felicity. He leans over the counter the way he’s seen Oliver do a million times. “Hey.” 

The narrowed eyes and the slight frown on her face is _ so unnecessary. _“I didn’t do it,” she mutters. “Whatever you think I did, I didn’t.”

Defensiveness. A sign of guilt, if there ever was one. And in such cases, the best form of attack is to get right to the point. 

“Did you break up with Oliver?” 

Felicity makes a funny little squeak, jolting backwards so violently she nearly yanks her keyboard off her desk. “Excuse me,_ what?” _Indignance rolls off her in waves and it sows a little seed of doubt in him. 

He follows through anyway. “I assume you broke up with Oliver over the holidays and that’s why the two of you have been so strange lately.” 

Felicity lets out a bark of nervous laughter. She rolls her chair back into her desk and adjusts her glasses. He watches closely, takes in the way the frown’s gone but her forehead’s wrinkled, her eyes are focused on her monitors. He concludes that something is clearly_ off. _

“Oliver and I aren’t - we were never together.” Her answer is simple, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Still. She must be _ wrong. _

“No, I’m sure you were,” Adrian protests. “All the... looks. And the flirting, and all the ‘plotting of my downfall’, and plus you two spend all your time together. Come on. Surely you guys had something going on.” 

“Trust me, Adrian.” Felicity exhales, frustrated. “Don’t you think I’d know if we did?”

The vehemence in her voice is unmistakable and there goes his one explanation. Damn it. If they didn’t break up_ \- sorry - _were never together, then why - 

“Why the weirdness then?” he asks, leaning further forward as if being closer might reveal her secrets to him. Hey, it could happen. “Why haven’t the two of you been... you? You don’t even have lunch together anymore, which is really inconvenient for me because Oliver only takes extra long lunches when he’s with you and it means that_ I _ get an extra half an hour of sales calls when -”

_ “Adrian.” _Felicity interrupts him, finally looking up from her monitors. She double clicks on her mouse way too loudly, sending something to the printer as it whirrs to life behind her. She lets out a long, suffering exhale of air. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing!” he insists. “I feel like things have changed here and I don’t like it. You’re obviously not helping Oliver with his scheming because they’ve been downright embarrassing. There’s a reason for that and I want to know what it is. You haven't even updated him on your stupid fern this week.”

Felicity blinks at him. “Bobby isn’t stupid.” 

“Maybe not, but I wouldn’t know because you don’t walk over to his desk and tell him about_ Bobby _ anymore, do you?” 

Her throat bobs once as she swallows and he knows he’s caught her unaware. She scowls, purposely turning away from him to grab something from the printer. He sees a flash of colour, blocky words that spell out_ ‘Tech Expo-’ _ something, and he forgets about it as soon as he confirms it has nothing to do with him. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Oliver doesn’t care about Bobby?” she asks, tucking the sheet of paper away into her bag. She doesn’t sound convincing_ at all, _ and honestly, the last year of Oliver making dopey eyes at Felicity for _ literally _anything she tells him suggests otherwise. And that's besides the fact that Oliver's the one who gave her the plant.

“Oliver cares more about Bobby than you do,” he responds with a touch of smugness, because Oliver _ does, _ and the way Felicity pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, glaring angrily at him tells him that she knows it. “You’re just proving my point about something being wrong between the two of you, you know that, don't you?”

Adrian leans back with a satisfied smile, convinced that he’s got his point across. Felicity’s studying him, pouting slightly, chin tipped upwards in contemplation. Okay, he kinda gets Oliver’s infatuation with her (because yes, whether or not they were together, the fact that the guy is practically head over heels for her is undeniable) when she’s like this, all cute and... stuff. 

“Well, I’m sorry this thing between me and Oliver, that is totally not a thing by the way, is inconveniencing you,” she says, rolling her eyes, not at all sounding apologetic. Liar.

“But you have nothing to worry about. We’re fine - Oliver and me, I mean. Him, more so than me, since he’s found himself a new girlfriend and all, but -” 

And then she’s silent, lips pressed together, nostrils flared at the clear slip of tongue. 

There it is. He grins. Mission accomplished.

_ Oliver’s new girlfriend. _

* * *

“Switching my pen caps?” 

Adrians lobs the aforementioned pen cap at Oliver’s head, cheering silently as he watches it bounce off the other man's forehead, right on target. And then his grin falters because - nothing. Not even a flinch. His nemesis keeps working unaffected. 

“Is that it? That all you got, Queen?” he taunts. “Boo hoo, Adrian signed his name in red instead of black today, how _ dumb.” _

Oliver doesn’t even give him the satisfaction of looking up from his screen. _ “ _In Chinese culture, writing your name in red brings you bad luck, so I guess it’s less dumb, and more of an omen, if you think about it.” 

“AGH!” Adrian jumps to his feet, aggravated. He stretches over the partition that separates their desk and glares at Oliver. “Why - what is_ wrong _ with you?! You’ve put in zero effort with this. Why are you _ giving up?! _” 

Oliver shrugs. “I’m working.”

“You’re - you don’t -” Adrian sputters. “I’m not even Chinese!” he half-yells. He yanks the requisition form he was signing off his desk and waves it in Oliver’s face. “So your dumb, asinine prank means nothing, _ Oliver!” _

“That’s too bad.” 

In his periphery - because yes, he has an amazing field of vision which is useful when it comes to being hyper-vigilant in daily life - he sees a small smile flutter across Felicity’s face. Good. That’s number one for the day. Which, at eleven in the morning, is a rather dire statistic. 

This can’t go on.

_ “You’re _too bad.” Adrian scowls. God, Oliver better appreciate what he’s about to do. He steps away from his desk, rounding the corner so that he’s standing right next to Oliver. It’s a strategic move, blocking Oliver from Felicity’s line of sight, but also it gives him a nice look at what he’s doing on his computer.

Huh. He really is working.

He clears his throat, then announces loudly. “You’re so stupid, Oliver!” Then drops into a whisper, “Your new girlfriend is a terrible influence on you.” 

Oliver turns to him sharply, eyes nearly bulging out with bewilderment. Finally! A reaction! “What are you -” 

He reaches over, snatches a piece of paper from Oliver’s in-tray and flourishes it in the air. “How do you like this -” he bellows, then makes a point to slowly write out his name in big blocky red letters, enunciating it just as slowly_ “- Ol-i-ver?” _

He ducks his head so it’s closer to Oliver’s, injecting some urgency into his hushed muttering. “I think you two should end it. Can’t be serious, can it? Couple of weeks? Give or take? I say dump her.” It should be enough to convey the seriousness of his suggestion but Oliver just stares blankly at him. 

How_ slow _is he? God!

“Hey, listen to me!” Adrian hisses, well aware that Felicity is_ right there,_ and probably wondering what the ruckus is about. He grunts at Oliver. “Look, I’m trying to_ help _you -”

“What’s going on?” Felicity calls out as expected, making him wince. Damn it! He hears her rolling her chair back and then her footsteps as she approaches them. 

“Nothing!” he screeches, backing away from Oliver’s desk. “Except years of bad luck for Oliver, obviously.” He brandishes the paper with Oliver’s name emblazoned on it, bright red. “Tough luck. How's that for an _omen?”_

Stalking unhappily back to his seat at his lack of success, he makes a mental note that Felicity’s standing a respectable three feet away from Oliver’s desk. Very work appropriate, and nothing remarkable about it, except that_ before _ the holidays, she’d be half-sitting on the edge of his desk instead of standing that far away from him. 

Before the holidays, she’d be right up in his face, playing with his stationery, or clicking through stuff on his computer to_ ‘make things more efficient’. _ She’d be regaling him (and Adrian, by association, since their desks are so close to each other) about every insignificant thing that occurs in her life, which is how he knows so much about her dumb fern. 

Now, hands on her hips and with a slight frown on her face, she merely casts them both a critical look and folds her arms over her chest. “You’re being distracting,” she tells Adrian pointedly. “I have important work to do.” 

_ “Me?!” _he whines, affronted. “I’m just telling Oliver that-” 

“That he’s crazy, but we already knew that,” Oliver cuts him off. And then under his breath, mutters, “Girlfriend, my ass...”

Except it comes out a little louder than anticipated and Felicity clearly hears him say_ ‘girlfriend’. _ Like watching a train wreck happening right in front of him in slow motion, he notices the way her face crumbles at the word, how her hands (purple and green nails today) close into fists by her side, and Oliver - oblivious Oliver - shoots her a weird smirk/grin thing and then just _ turns back to his computer! _

“You’re such an idiot,” he tells Oliver, though his statement falls onto deaf ears.

Felicity’s already back at reception, fleeting moment of vulnerability wiped clean from her expression like it never happened. Oh, but it happened alright, and it’s the only confirmation he needs about the sorry state of affairs between his two stubborn coworkers. 

He spares them a few precious minutes of his time mentally going through a cost-benefit analysis of involving himself further into this mess. 

On one hand, what does he care if his arch-nemesis sabotages his relationship with Felicity? If anything, he should bask in the possibility since that means he wins the office war they’ve been in since Oliver started working there. 

On the other, the win would be meaningless. There is no joy, nor pride, in being handed the win by default because of Felicity’s misery and Oliver’s stupidity. Plus, the office doesn’t run as smoothly when Felicity’s upset. This week alone, she’s taken two minutes longer than she usually does to fix the printer, and she nearly bit off Roy’s head when he complained about the fax machine.

What’s going to happen to the team if this drags on and they run out of stationery? Who’s going to put in their monthly order and make sure he gets his FineLine gel-only blue pens in? 

Decision made, Adrian minimises the sales report window, noting with interest that Oliver’s numbers, despite ‘working’ all morning, is still rather low, and logs into the office’s print queue. 

He makes quick work looking through the system, scrolling through the print requests for the day until he finds what he’s searching for: the flier that Felicity printed out this morning. Just as he suspected, it's not_ just_ a flier. At the bottom of the page is a form, Felicity’s neat writing filling in the blank spaces for a booth at some kind of technology exhibition this weekend.

_ Perfect. _ Adrian grins to himself as he scrawls the details onto a post-it note. 

“Hey, stupid,” he whispers, throwing a wad of paper at Oliver. “Hey!” 

“What, Adrian?” Oliver turns to him, rolling his eyes. “No, don’t tell me. You want to show me how you wrote my name down all over your notepad like a lovesick teenager, in bright red, the colour of _ love.” _

For a brief moment, he considers changing his mind and letting Oliver suffer in his own bed of mistakes but then he hears a quiet, feminine, slightly restrained chuckle from somewhere behind him and he shakes his head. 

“You should go here tomorrow.” He stretches his arm out to stick the post-it note against Oliver’s monitor, much to Oliver’s displeasure. “But don’t bring your girlfriend. Trust me.” 

Oliver sighs. “Adrian, I don’t ha-” 

“I don't care. Just_ be there.” _

* * *

“_I don’t know how you guys found out about this. It’s not like I’m trying to, um, find another job or something... it’s more of a side gig? And since it’s outside of work hours, I’m not technically doing anything wrong.” _

_ “It’s just an exhibition. For upcoming tech innovations, ideas, things like that. You know how I tinker with stuff in my own time? Well, I’m displaying a prototype battery today. It’s semi-functioning still but I’m hoping I get investors interested through this and hopefully get some funding to really test this out.” _

_ “It’s really boring, you guys don’t really have to be here. Recording me. And stuff. I promise you won’t be missing out on anything.”_

* * *

The film crew tries to be inconspicuous about their presence, to be fair. But Felicity’s already nervous enough, literally putting herself and her work out in the open for the first time in her life, and the stupid two-man documentary filming team skulking around her booth isn’t doing her any favours.

They’re there, lurking in the corner of her eye, small handheld camera sweeping in and out among the attendees, and it’s_ distracting. _She finds herself following their movements instead of focusing on trying to get people interested in her prototype. It doesn’t help that no one seems to be able to spare just a few minutes to hear her pitch and as the hours drag on, what little hope she had to begin with starts dwindling away.

This exhibition was supposed to be a stepping stone in getting herself out of the rut she’s found herself in; stuck as a receptionist at one of the lowest rungs of the corporate ladder at Queen Consolidated. It was meant to get people to finally notice her, Felicity Smoak, genius innovator who could one day change the world one invention at a time, but all she’s accomplished so far is obtain a few business cards, tossed carelessly into the glass bowl on her exhibitor table.

The decision to participate in the exhibition had been a last minute one, which is probably part of the problem. She didn’t have time for promotion, and she only managed to print up little brochures and pamphlets about her self-sustaining battery, that next to the everyone _else’s_ promotional material, look sad and pitiful in comparison.

But the thing is, a week ago when she came back from Vegas, newly single, and 100% moved on her horrible relationship with Cooper, this exhibition hadn’t been on her mind. Instead, she’d been excited for other things. Excited about the new year, excited about coming back to work, but mostly excited about... Oliver. 

Her entire time away had been consumed with their one kiss. It plagued her, haunted her dreams, floated in her mind’s eye just out of reach, taunting her. Teased her. Laughed at her as she writhed in bed, her imagination taking over as she pictured them doing _ more _than just kissing on the rooftop that night.

It’s not that she regrets asking him to wait, even now, knowing what she knows. She needed that time away. It gave her perspective. It helped her figure out that her friendship with Oliver had never really been_ just_ a friendship, and that in the year that they’ve been friends, a part of her had known, implicitly, in her bones, that they were always going to be_ more. _

Except that when she came back from her holiday, ready to talk, bursting with indecipherable, almost overwhelming feelings, she’d had the rug completely pulled out from under her feet.

The night she flew back into Starling, after she dropped her bags at home, she’d driven straight to Oliver’s imposing mansion. She’d practiced in her head on the entire flight back everything she wanted to say to him. Memorised the words, let them build up inside her like a pot threatening to bubble over, searing her insides with anticipation. 

That is, until she saw the tall brunette walk out of his front door, laughing easily as Oliver followed closely behind, laughing just as boisterously with her. She’d watched silently from her parked car, heart sinking deeper and deeper with every second that passed by. Oliver walked the woman to her car, practically plastered to her until he peeled himself away to get the door for her.

Felicity couldn’t hear their conversation, but it wasn’t like she wanted to anyway. It was already bad enough that she could see him leaning down to brush a kiss against the woman’s cheek, so reminiscent to the one he gave her at Diggle’s party, and just like that, the excitement of being home was replaced with bitterness and hurt and just a touch of anger.

She drove off then, not at all interested in seeing anything else. She returned to work the next day without much fanfare, and if Oliver thought she was being weird and cold and icy towards him, he didn’t mention it, which only confirmed her suspicions: that while she was moving on from Cooper over the holiday break, he was moving on from her too. 

The silver lining though, was that it had jump-started her up until then, dormant need to prove herself to the world. She signed up for the exhibition, confident (back then anyway) that she could wow some of the people who would be there. 

If her battery manages to get some traction at the show, it means she’ll be able to leave her current job and not have to look at Oliver’s gorgeous, heartbreaking face every single day anymore. 

But now that she’s here, she thinks that she’d been far too optimistic about it all. Did she really think she stood a chance going to head to head against the flashier, more enticing displays like those at Palmer Tech’s and Kord Industries’ booths? Her little prototype battery that could potentially power an entire building in a single charge couldn’t possibly compare, could it?

Well, it_ should. _

But nobody knows that because no one of importance has bothered to come up to her little booth in the corner of the stupid exhibition.

She growls under her breath as she watches yet another person walk right past her, making a beeline for the bigger booths. She doesn’t even get a chance to explain what she’s here for before the man waves her off, sneering condescendingly at her.

“Hello to you too,” she mutters, glaring daggers into the back of his finely tailored suit. “Asshole.”

A few more disinterested people walk past her and she finally concedes that the exhibition has been a bust. A complete and total bust. She’s ready to call it a day, wallow in misery and mint chip ice cream for the rest of the evening. Even the film crew turned their camera off, adding insult to injury, as if they too can’t bear to have her embarrassment permanently documented for all eternity. 

She doesn’t blame them.

“Hey,” she addresses one of the cameramen directly, going against the filming rules, but she can’t find it in herself to care at the moment. She forces an unaffected smile onto her face. “I’m going to go get a coffee before I start packing up. Watch my booth for a sec?”

It’s not like he has to do much, if the past five hours are any indication. The man shrugs before nodding.

“Make sure no one steals my battery!” she jokes as she leaves her booth, laughing bitterly under her breath because - ha - _ no one _wants her battery. It’s going to be another one of her failed inventions that she can add to her long list of ‘could’ve beens'. This one hits a little harder though, because she’s spent so much time on it, and she really, really thought this would be the one that puts her name on the map.

She takes the long way round towards the cafe on purpose, cruelly punishing herself as she sees the other booths teeming with excited attendees. She’s so caught up in misery and dejection that she doesn’t hear it until it’s too late.

“Felicity?”

She trips at the unexpected sound of her name, heart racing as she catches herself on the edge of Wayne Enterprises’ big, definitely not to scale bat-shaped_ thing _that tips over precariously as she rights herself. 

She mumbles an apology to the kid minding the booth, avoiding the stern glare he sends her way and searches for the person who very nearly caused her death-by-Batwing.

“Oliver?” she whispers with confusion as she spots him elbowing his way through the crowd in front of the Wayne Enterprises display of techy gadgets. 

His usually immaculately styled hair is tousled, his dress shirt wrinkled as if he put it on in a hurry and his cheeks are flushed. Did he... run here?

“Oh, God,” he pants, hand on his chest as he approaches her. “I was at your booth and I thought you already left. Brian said you were upset that no one wanted to look at your battery and that I was too late.”

What is he even... 

“Oliver, what are you doing here?” Her voice comes out a little breathless and she chastises herself internally for it. She’s done with Oliver, remember? She’s supposed to_ not_ get caught up with him and his charm and his_ everything _anymore. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?” he asks instead of answering her, though now that he’s not trying to catch his breath anymore, it sounds more like a stern demand. He runs his hand through his hair, messing it up even more. He raises his voice to compete with the chatter around them. “I could’ve helped or something. Carried your things. I don’t know. Felicity, what’s going on with you lately? I’ve tried to -” 

She interrupts him mid-sentence, keenly aware that they’re gathering an audience. “Can you just -” She catches his wrist and leads him away from the crowd. “Let’s not make a scene in front of Bruce Wayne, huh?” 

“What are you doing here?” she repeats once they move to a quieter area.

“I - what do you mean, what am I doing here?” Oliver shakes his head in frustration. “I’m here to support you, Felicity, and I would have been here from the start, if you told me. I found out from Adrian, of all people, and I didn’t realise that it _ wasn’t _ a joke until it was almost too late. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She takes him in,_ really _takes him in for the first time since she returned from Vegas. The hard and unrelenting cut of his jawline, the way his eyes are focused on her, and her alone, the slight tremble that she can feel going through him as her fingers remain curled around his wrists - he’s... oh, he’s upset.

The revelation is startling. 

She’s spent so much of the last week trying her hardest to maintain a respectable distance from him, both physically and emotionally, that she almost forgot how expressive he can be, in his own non-expressive way. The usual clear blue of his eyes is a murky, darker hue, and if she didn’t know him better (but she does) she’d have confused his expression as one of anger. 

But she knows, in a rather unsettling, uncomfortable way, that it isn’t anger. Her mouth falls open in silent surprise. 

This is Oliver _ hurting. _

* * *

The expression on Felicity’s face is nearly his undoing. 

_ Nearly. _

But Oliver remains resolute and steels himself against her usually endearing wide-eyed surprise. He’s a grown ass man, damn it, and he is very capable of standing his ground against Felicity’s charm that she probably doesn’t even realise she’s exuding like, literally all the time. 

He may have been happy enough being wrapped around her finger over the last year and a bit (Digg’s words, not his, though undeniable), but that was before this literal _ week from hell, _before she started acting weird and stand-offish and before she came home from her holiday and started pretending like they weren’t even friends, much less two people who promised to talk about... well. 

He doesn’t want to think about that right now. 

He notes with heightened interest that she doesn’t answer his question about the exhibition. Maybe she doesn't know herself? Maybe she’s been floundering just as much as he’s been this past week, and the thought gives him a small sense of satisfaction.

Frustrating as the situation he finds himself in, he_ is _here, at this tech thing, for a very specific reason, so he shakes his head and sets aside his tumultuous feelings (for now). 

“Come with me,” he instructs in a gruff murmur. The hand he places around her forearm is gentle though, coaxing her to move with him. “Back to your booth. C’mon.”

Her slight whine of protest (“but my coffee!”) falls on deaf ears as he pulls her away from Wayne Enterprises’ over-compensating display of whatever it is they're trying to sell to the masses. Stupid Bruce. 

“I was about to pack everything up,” Felicity tells him meekly, and her tone cuts him so very deep. He’s never known Felicity to be meek and it says a lot about how her day has gone that she’s resigned herself to that level of disappointment. 

“You already know all there is to know about my battery anyway,” she continues as they approach her booth. “I told you about it, remember? You don’t have to pretend to be interested, Oliver. We both know today’s been a disaster -” 

“I’m not pretending,” he huffs. And then, because it’s the first time in an entire week that he’s having an actual conversation with her and he’s apparently lost control over his stupid, stupid mouth, also says, “I’ve never had to pretend with you. Ever.”

Behind him, Felicity’s heels stop clicking against the tiles and Oliver screws his eyes shut. Overplayed his hand, again. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he hears her say, quiet and subdued, causing him to turn around, frowning. What is going on with her? She’s pointedly not meeting his eyes, staring instead at the ground before her. “Not when you have a g-” 

“Miss Smoak?” 

They both look up and around at the intrusion. “Walter,” Oliver greets the other man easily, curving an arm around Felicity’s shoulders to get her moving again. “I found her!” 

Walter steps away from where he’d been scrutinising Felicity’s little battery and walks up to the two of them. The documentary crew scramble to get their gear up and running again as Walter smiles and waves at them.

“I see that, and just in time too. You were right, Oliver. This battery is exactly the kind of thing our Applied Sciences division is interested in.” 

Felicity freezes next to him, back ramrod straight as she undoubtedly figures out what Walter is implying. She steps out from under Oliver's arm, head tilting to give him a curious look. 

Their gaze connects for a second, and Oliver prays to God that she doesn’t think he’s overstepped by inviting his step-father to her look at her work. Felicity doesn’t like handouts, and this could backfire spectacularly on him, but Walter’s a fair man, honest, and it’s not like he’s going to invest in Felicity just because he’s married to Oliver’s mother and Oliver said he should look at her battery. 

Oliver’s not even sure Walter_ likes _him. 

But then Felicity blinks at him, mouths a silent ‘thank you’ and Oliver knows he did good. He releases the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, tension fading away, just a little, and he shrugs wordlessly.

Felicity exhales, reaches out to squeeze his arm once gratefully, and then cool, collected, professional Felicity takes over. 

“Mr. Steele. Hi. Hello. Thanks for coming.” 

* * *

_ “I don’t understand why I have to do this now. Can’t you... hey, how is it my fault that you have no footage from today? Fine, it was a slow day for her, but why me, and why do I have to do this right this minute? Can’t you see that she’s out there working her magic? Go film _ her, _ for God’s sake.” _

_ “I’m not grumpy, I don’t know what you mean.” _

_ “No, I didn’t come late on purpose! I thought Adrian was joking when he gave me the address yesterday. Another one of his pranks, you know? Ha ha, lets send Oliver on a wild goose chase because that’ll be fun. But then I was checking Felicity’s Twitter thing since that seems to be the only way to find out what she’s up to lately, and she... um. She posted about showcasing her battery and I realised that Adrian wasn’t kidding so... here I am.” _

_ “Oh, Walter? He was at home when I was leaving and I thought he’d be interested, that’s all. If there’s any way I can help Felicity achieve her dreams, I’ll do it. She’s my friend, one of my best friends. Even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.” _

_ “Can you stop saying that? I’m not upset, okay?” _

[Turns to look towards Felicity’s booth, wistful] 

_ “It’s like... it’s like she’s a beautiful glass of red wine, you know? Classy and decadent and full bodied, and I’m... I’m a plain old white shirt. And you have to be careful when you have them together ‘cause it might get messy and if... if the red wine spills there’s a chance it’ll never come off and-” _ [clears his throat] _ “-this really great glass of wine might be wasted on the stupid white shirt that will bear the mark of the wine forever...” _

_ “Anyway. She said that she needed time and that we’d talk after she came back from Vegas. I’m giving her time, exactly what she asked for. Do I wish she needed _ less _ time, of course I do, but no, I’m not upset. At all. Thanks, I’m going to go, she needs me now.” _

* * *

“Where did you go? Oh my God, Oliver, did you see that? Did you see me just now?” 

He’s physically accosted by the tiny blonde when he rounds the corner, the wind knocked out of him from the impact. He hugs her to him, eyes slamming shut as he inhales the familiar scent that he’s been painfully deprived off over the last week. 

“Mr. Steele was so nice, and so interested and he gave me his card and everything!” she babbles on, unhindered by the fact that her face is pressed up against his chest. “He said it was a disservice that they overlooked my application for the IT position at QC last year and that - Oliver, hey are you okay?” 

Okay, so maybe he stopped breathing there for a second. And maybe his hands are clenched around the material of her dress a little tighter than is appropriate for their public setting. 

“Ye-Yeah, I’m fine,” he chokes. Then coughs. And then lets go of her with a reluctant sigh. "I'm so happy for you." 

_ This _ is the Felicity he knows, bubbly and and brimming with excitement, a far cry from the dejected woman he’d stumbled upon almost half an hour ago. She’s holding onto Walter’s business card like it’s the most precious thing in the world (she’s wrong, _ she’s _ the most precious thing in the world) and despite his reservations, despite the pit of confusion he’s been drowning in recently, her happiness sparks a warmth in him. 

All he wants, ever, is for her to be happy. 

“Thank you, Oliver. For getting Walter here and asking him to look at my work.” 

“It was nothing.” His smile is heavy, even as he adopts an air of nonchalance when he speaks. “Walter caught me as I was leaving the mansion, all I had to do was tell him about what your battery can do and he was convinced he had to see it for himself.”

“But you didn’t have to.” The waver in her voice speaks volumes.

The uncertainty in her demeanor dims her happiness, just a little, and Oliver decides right then that he’s had enough of this stupid game they’re playing. He’s done tip-toeing around her because he doesn't know what she wants, or what she’s doing, and sitting back and doing nothing isn’t cutting it for him anymore. 

“Felicity, can we talk?” 

It’s not really a question, not the way it leaves his mouth. They’re lucky enough that her booth is in a quiet corner of the exhibition, affording them some modicum of privacy, except for the camera guys that he spies scurrying not-so-subtly trying to hide behind the stone pillars for a better vantage point. 

“Um, about what?” Felicity purses her lips, tilts her head to one side, the perfect image of innocence. She’s avoiding his gaze again, hands clasped together in front of her. “‘Cause I have to um, pack up, and break down the booth and stuff...” 

Oliver grits his teeth. _ “Felicity.” _

She narrows her eyes at him and her veneer of innocence slips. “Look, I appreciate you bringing Walter here today, but don’t take that tone with me,” she snaps. “You don’t get to just show up here, all ‘knight-in-shining-armour’ like nothing’s changed between us after -” 

“After_ what, _Felicity?” Oliver explodes, finally setting free his week-long pent up frustration. He ignores the gasp that falls from Felicity’s lips at his outburst.

“After you came home from Vegas and started treating me like a total stranger? After you unilaterally decided that I’m not good enough for you to be around anymore? After _ that?” _

Oliver lets out a derisive snort, running an agitated hand through his hair, turning around to face the now empty booth. He plants both palms on the table, leaning forward as he lets the words tumble out undeterred. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe I_ shouldn’t _ have come in all _ ‘knight-in-shining-armour _’-” he makes air quotes with his fingers.“-but newsflash, Felicity, the thing is-”

And then makes the mistake of turning back around and looking at her.

The slight pause allows him to really take her in; her wide-eyed, unblinking stare, her mouth, half-opened in surprise, and the brief shadow of hurt that flashes over her face. 

Immediately, his anger dissipates. Disappears into thin air. Melts away like the polar ice caps she told him about once in a fifteen minute long rant about the environment and how no one is doing enough about it. Her passionate tirade had been so _ Felicity, _ presented with the determined shine in her eyes much like the one she had moments ago as she impressed Walter with her sheer brilliance.

The shine that he’s just dimmed by being a stupid, impulsive, lovesick fool by losing his cool. He forgets everything he wants to say, forgets why he’s angry at her and he’s left with the only thing he knows now and _ has known, _ since the day they met -

“- the thing is, I’d do _ anything _for you.” 

His heartbeat thunders in his ear. There. It’s all out in the open now. He slams his eyes shut and presses his lips together. This isn’t at all how he wanted to do this. Not in the middle of the exhibition, and definitely not with the damn camera crew watching their every move.

“How... how does your girlfriend feel about that?” 

His eyes fly open, mouth agape. Of all the responses he expected from her, none of that were _ that. _ “Wh-"

_Girlfriend? _

In his periphery, the cameras inch closer.

“Yeah, Oliver, your girlfriend. Tall, brunette, you walked her to her car the night I came home from Vegas? Her?” 

He doesn’t even register the way she’s snarking at him. Doesn’t register much of anything really, except that Adrian had mentioned a girlfriend as well, and now _ Felicity _ is talking about this wholly imaginary, non-existent person. 

Then a light bulb goes off in his head.

The tightness in his chest eases. The anger and frustration ebbs away completely. He doesn’t keep the smile off his face when he tells her, relief flooding his veins, “Felicity, I _ don’t _have a girlfriend.” 

Oliver wraps his arm around her bicep, then hustles her over into an even more secluded corner of the room. She doesn’t fight him on this, thank God, because the last thing he needs right now is to be accused of harassment. Felicity herself just blinks owlishly, allowing him to navigate them until he’s sure the cameras have no way of filming them properly. 

“I don’t know who you’re talking about, but Felicity, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he repeats. Then laughs, more out of nerves than anything, because _ everything _ makes sense now. “I mean, I was hoping you... when you came back, _ you’d _ be my -” 

“Then_ who _was that?” Felicity whispers with just a tiny hint of hardness lingering in her tone, clearly not appreciating the hilarity of the situation as much as he is. “I_ saw_ her, Oliver. And you were so - so... happy! You walked her to her car, and then you were laughing and -”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to recall what he was doing the night she returned. Sunday night. He wanted to go pick her up at the airport, but then Thea had been caught at a club, and being under-aged... oh.

“Felicity, that was McKenna.” 

Felicity squints. “Your ex-girlfriend McKenna?” 

Right. That doesn’t help. 

“Yes, her. But all she did was drive Thea home. The cops caught her at Poison and McKenna did me a favour by dropping her home with a warning instead of having her written up at SCPD. That’s all. I don’t even remember what we were talking about that night, but I promise... _ nothing happened.” _

A giant weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and it dawns on him that this is the most amount of time in an entire week that he’s able to be this close to Felicity. So close that he can see himself reflected in her glasses, and in the bright, bright blue of her irises too. 

“You...” Felicity trails off on a sigh before exhaling, long and hard. “You’re not...?” 

He imagines her mind slowly letting the revelation sink in, unknotting the unfortunate tangle they have accidentally found themselves in. It’s rare that she’s a loss for words, and with her genius level smarts, it won’t take her long work through it so he’s going to remember this moment for years to come. 

He, _ Oliver Queen, _ has rendered Felicity Smoak speechless.

“Why didn’t you..._ say anything? _ ” Felicity half-whines once a few seconds pass by. “Oh my God, Oliver!” She lifts her hands, then slaps her palms over his chest. It brings her even closer still to him, and he catches a whiff of her perfume and it’s positively _ arresting. _

“I was... you... You let me get all angry, and annoyed, and I haven’t talked to you in days, Oliver! You should have, I don’t know... confronted me about how stupid I was being! Why are we -_ am I _\- so bad at communicating?”

She thumps his chest twice. Her fingers curl around the material of his shirt, and then she falls into him with her entire body, her forehead nestling into the crook of his neck, nose brushing up against the skin of his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she moans, and he feels _every trembling syllable_ in his soul. “This is all my fault. There’s something wrong with me.” 

“Felicity Smoak, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” Oliver huffs, feeling brave and wrapping an arm around her shoulders, anchoring her to him. He lets the other rest against the small of her back. He hasn’t hugged her for _ a whole week _and he luxuriates in their closeness. 

“I didn’t confront you about your weirdness because you said you needed time for yourself. I figured that when you wanted to talk, you’d come to me on your own. I didn’t want to push, didn’t want to... force you into something you’re not ready for. I was respecting your wishes. Playing by your rules,” he explains. 

He conveniently leaves out the fact that he spent hours moping about the distance between them, getting crankier and crankier with each passing day without any indication that she wanted to resume their talk from the holiday party. He doesn’t need to relive the way his heart broke a little every day she spent not talking to him. 

It’s all water under the bridge now, anyway. Or so he hopes. 

She twists his shirt in her tiny hands. Her lips move against his neck, muffled against his skin. “Of all the times for you to follow the goddamn rules, Oliver...” 

He chuckles wholeheartedly at the disbelief coating her words. He tips his chin, brushing a chaste, barely there kiss against her temple.

“Yeah, see I’m trying this new thing out where I attempt to be good enough for you.”

Felicity untangles herself from his embrace and takes a step back. He misses her immediately but it’s probably a good idea to create some space between them. His emotions are are running a little wild at the moment, hope bursting from within like sunlight peeking through the clouds after a rainy day and he doesn't trust himself _ not _to do something completely and utterly stupid to ruin this fine, tentative balance they have between them - like kiss her senseless the way his whole being is aching to do. 

“You_ are _ good enough.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips before she rolls her shoulders and blows out a breath of air. She links their hands together between them, leaning forward just a little. Her palms are smooth to touch, warm and inviting.

“You always were,” she adds after a beat, and yeah, okay, it's making him feel things, like a strange fluttering in his stomach and all those other cliched romance novel type things that he will deny feeling (except maybe to Felicity) until the end of his days.

She stares at him with serious intent, then playfully tugs on his fingers. “So, we're both single.” 

“Yes, I’m very, very, _ single,” _ he reiterates, stressing on the word ‘single’ to make sure he gets the point across. He squeezes her fingers once. His voice drops into a low murmur, and he adds a touch of a growl to it, just for fun. “Unless you say something right now to change that about, uh, _ us, _obviously.”

She doesn’t. 

Because her lips are otherwise preoccupied with kissing him. 

She’s up on her tiptoes, and they're chest to chest, her hands curved around his neck for support. Her lips - oh, her lips - move sensually over his in a devastating dance, insistent and demanding and so very hot. Her tongue seeks entrance, and he grants it over a helpless gasp. 

He kisses her back with fervour, setting his entire body aflame with want. This kiss is a far cry from the innocent, almost ethereal one they shared on the rooftop a month and a week ago, but he’s not going to complain. He holds her against him, hands respectfully around her waist even as Felicity lists further into his embrace. 

“Are we... is this-” Yeah, okay, it’s hard trying to speak when Felicity's dead set on electrifying him from the inside. Of his mouth. “Us?” He hopes he understands what he’s asking, because he has absolutely zero capacity to think right now. 

  
“Yes, Oliver, yes,” she grumbles, snagging his bottom lip with her teeth as punishment for distracting her. “We’re an _ us.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got so long lol. But one more left! Love you all so much, thank you for all the feedback :) 
> 
> Twitter: @griever_11


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue in five parts.

“Oliver, I don’t think they care if whether I’m cold or-”

“Yeah, but I do. Humour me. Please?” 

Felicity scowls at the jacket dangling from Oliver’s fingers. It’s not that she’s _ not _ cold, because she is, the goosebumps on her skin attest to that, but she spent an inordinate amount of time deciding what to wear tonight and she isn’t going to hide her really, really pretty dress under Oliver’s giant jacket. 

They’re standing outside Starling Grand, dawdling, because once they go in, they’ll have to pretend to be_ just friends _ and that’s... not nice. Not when the night’s so wonderful, warm with a gentle breeze blowing. Not when there are so many stars dotting the vast night sky and it’s all so _ romantic. _

Oliver trails a hand up her shoulder, smooth and warm, then brushes his knuckles over her cheekbone. He’s all up in her personal space, standing way too close, smelling way too decadent. “Please?” 

Aw, hell. He’s using his stupid puppy-dog pleading eyes on her. If she hadn’t been able to withstand that look before they were dating, she sure doesn’t have a chance in hell now that they are. 

Because - sometimes she still pinches herself when she thinks about it - they_ are _dating. 

In secret.

Which isn’t ideal when they work together because she wants to kiss him, literally, like all the time, and exercising that much willpower_ not _ to when they spend so much time together is _ hard. _But as inconvenient as a secret relationship is, it’s totally a smart move when she’s being put forward for one of Queen Consolidated’s much sought-after start up grants by her boyfriend’s (boyfriend!) stepfather. 

Walter had been adamant that other than the introduction that Oliver orchestrated at the expo, he had nothing else to do with the Queen Consolidated board agreeing to fund her project. He promised that everything was above board and the reassurance was a nice sentiment but she didn’t want there to be talk about favoritism or nepotism, so until she secures this grant, they’ve decided to keep their relationship under wraps. 

“Fine,” she relents. Oliver grins, so wide that his cheeks surely must hurt. God, he’s so cute. She wrinkles her nose at him when he drapes his jacket over her shoulders, smug with his small win. “But only until we get inside, then I’m taking this off ‘cause there’s press in there and-”

“And you don’t want to be seen wearing my jacket like I’m your _ boyfriend,” _he interrupts with a teasing glint in his eye. “I’m only here as a supportive friend, come on, who’s gonna know-” 

“There you are!!” 

They fly apart like they’ve been electrocuted. She glares at Oliver. _ Who’s gonna know, _ yeah, _ everybody, _ Oliver. Cause he’s as subtle as a brick wall when it comes to his feelings for her. 

“Hi, Thea!” she greets casually, even though the narrowed eyes and the slight frown on the younger woman’s face indicate she hasn’t quite pulled it off.

“What are you still doing out here?” Thea questions. “They’re about to start and you’re like, the lady of honour.” 

“Well, Felicity was-”

“We were just-” 

Felicity falters when she realises they’re talking over one another. She snaps her mouth shut, pulling Oliver’s jacket tighter around herself as if the material will shield her from Thea’s scrutiny. 

Oliver chuckles nervously next to her. “We were just talking,” he supplies smoothly. “Lost track of time.” 

“Yeah, okay, whatever,” Thea rolls her eyes. “Let’s go. Mother’s going to have a fit if we run late.” 

Thea doesn’t even give her the time to return Oliver’s jacket before she’s being dragged inside and when she turns around to Oliver, all he does is shrug helplessly. 

Useless man. 

* * *

“Does she really still think no one knows you’re dating? ‘Cause you know that _ everyone’s _ figured it out, right?” 

Oliver side-eyes his sister, only mildly surprised at the revelation. It hasn’t escaped his attention that some people might have caught on to their secret, but _ everyone? _That’s a stretch. Up on the stage, Walter’s giving his speech about the purpose of the grants so he takes his eyes off the front of the room to face Thea. 

“Not everyone, surely.” Off Thea’s rolling eyes and thinly-pressed lips, Oliver sighs. “Okay, maybe everyone.” He doesn’t bother denying it. Thea’s too perceptive and it’s not like he’s tried particularly hard to hide his feelings for Felicity. “How did you know?”

“Wasn’t actually sure, but you just confirmed it. You’re not as slick as you think you are, Ollie,” Thea grins. “Besides, I see how you are at work. All the lovesick staring at each other was a dead giveaway.” 

“Yeah, well...” Oliver chuckles as he nods towards the stage where Felicity’s now being announced as the recipient of the start up grant for her battery. His jacket has disappeared, leaving her in the jaw-dropping green number she’d surprised him with earlier in the evening that nearly caused them to be late to the event. “Not my fault she’s easy to look at.”

Pride zips through his veins as she accepts the giant mock-cheque, fumbling with it in classic Felicity fashion, and when their eyes meet, he swears he can feel heat spreading over his skin like wildfire. He gives her a thumbs up, unable to contain himself and feeling dorky about it, but not caring in the slightest. 

“Wow, you’re so whipped,” Thea teases him good-naturedly, and just like that he knows his relationship’s got Thea’s stamp of approval. There’s no snort of derision, no suppressed sneer of disgust on her face. Just a genuine smile that warms the entirety of his heart. He hadn’t been looking for it, but he plans to have Felicity in his life for a long, long time, and it would be a hell of a lot easier if the two of them got along. 

“Yeah, I am,” he agrees without pause, completely in agreement with her assessment._ “So _whipped.”

It takes another good twenty minutes before Felicity emerges, and when she does, she’s pink-cheeked and breathless, buzzing with excitement. She’s wearing his jacket again and it makes him want to beat his chest repeatedly like a primitive caveman. 

Yeah, everyone in this room, this brilliant woman is my girlfriend. She chose_ me, _ for some reason, to be with, and she’s wearing _ my - _

“You look funny,” Felicity tells him as she sashays her way to him, eyebrows arched. “Stop that.” 

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispers when she gets close enough. “I’m so happy for you, Felicity.”

Despite her earlier reservations about being outed to the press, she leans in for a hug, looping her arms around his neck. He’s careful to keep their embrace as appropriate as possible for their present company, staying away from the enticing curve of her ass and the bare expanse of her back revealed by her dress, even if he can’t help the growl that escapes from his lips. 

Felicity giggles into his neck like she knows exactly where his thoughts are headed. She pulls her head back slightly, smirking, dragging her freshly manicured nails along the base of his neck, just above his collar, making him groan under his breath. 

“You okay, Oliver?” 

He groans, nodding. He gives her waist a quick, playful squeeze, delighting in the shiver that courses through Felicity at the action. She digs her fingers deeper into the back of his neck in retaliation. 

It’s no wonder their attempts at being a secret have been futile. He never really gave it much thought until Thea brought it up, but anyone watching them tonight will have no doubt at all about the existence of their romantic relationship. 

He stifles his laughter at the thought of them trying to fool anyone. God, they really are quite a pair. 

“Hey, you know what?” Felicity slides her fingers around his neck and along his tie, giving it a slight pull before licking her lips. She’s completely oblivious, or just plain ignoring outright, how affectionate she’s being with him. Not that he’s complaining, of course. He’s ready to blow the lid on this relationship, ready to take her out to nice restaurants, and so very ready to just be able to hold her hand in public. 

Her voice is low in his ear, suggestive and playful at the same time. “I got my grant, you’ve said your hellos. I think it’s time we got outta here.” 

* * *

“I can’t believe no one cares,” Felicity whines, flopping backwards onto her bed with a loud huff.

Oliver laughs as he climbs over her, nudging her nose with his as he kisses her soundly. She’s cute first thing in the morning (and every other time of day, but _ especially _ first thing in the morning) and he can’t resist trying to wipe away the pout of her lips as she laments about the lack of furore about their relationship. 

She twists away from his questing lips. “You’d think after so much ‘will-they, won’t-they’ speculation, we’d be, I don’t know... bigger news? Even your_ mother _just... rolled her eyes at us when we told her! And Walter? Walter straight out laughed at us at dinner! How embarrassing.” 

“Why do you care?” he asks her in lieu of an answer. 

He can’t bring himself to tell her that literally everyone who knows them already figured their secret out long before they decided to officially come out as a couple. Felicity just chose to be blissfully obtuse about it. 

He settles on his side, pulling her into him so she snuggles into his chest, tucking her legs in between his. He wraps his arms around her. “We can put out a statement, if you want. Or a press conference if that’s more your style. I can take out a full page ad in the papers too,” he offers. 

“Ugh, don’t mock me,” she grumps, poking him in the chest with a sharp fingernail. _ “No. _It’s going to be bad enough with the documentary coming out next month. I’m just... I don’t know.” Sighing, she pulls her thick, very fluffy, blanket up and over her head, obstructing herself from his view. 

Her next sentence comes out a little muffled. “I guess I’m just really excited about us officially being an_ us _, and I thought other people might be too, okay? Leave me alone.” 

The bark of laughter that flies out of his mouth earns him a swift kick in his shins, but he ignores it to join her under the covers. He presses another kiss against her lips, grinning with unbridled happiness. God, he loves her. He loves her so damn much, he feels like he’s going to explode. 

“Sorry, but I’m never leaving you alone, ever, Felicity,” he growls, before he ducks under her chin and drags his morning stubble over her bare skin, and it’s the last coherent sentence uttered between the two of them for the remainder of the morning. 

* * *

It’s a little awkward watching the finished documentary with an entire room of Queen Consolidated employees and it’s even _ more _awkward for Felicity because she doesn’t even work for them anymore. 

She tendered her resignation shortly after receiving the grant and went on to form her own company so she could focus on the development of her battery. That being said, she will admit that seeing her ex-colleagues again is kinda nice. Roy especially, seemed to have missed her a lot and had given her the biggest hug, pointedly ignoring the heated glare Oliver sends his way the entire time they’re hugging.

The invitation for the pre-screening for the documentary had come as a surprise to her. She honestly didn’t think the documentary had been like,_ real _ real and she was half-convinced that it might have been part of an elaborate prank Adrian cooked up just for the fun of it. She even considered declining the invitation, but Oliver had insisted they go, and he’d been so persistent and excited about that she didn’t have the heart to say no. 

So she’s here now, in the front row of a sold out theatre, lights dimmed, Oliver’s hand in hers as the documentary starts playing. The opening is as cheesy as she expects, a brief montage of all their faces and names flashing on the screen before they get into it. 

She goes through a rollercoaster of emotions as she watches it, mostly embarrassment because - well, duh, she’s watching _ herself _ \- but she does catch herself laughing at some of the more ridiculous antics they got up to in the past year. 

As the documentary trudges along and starts to (suspiciously) focus more on Felicity and Oliver’s relationship, she’s suddenly overcome with a wave of regret because it becomes unbelievably obvious how long Oliver’s been holding a torch for her. 

She finds herself enthralled by the way he talks about her to the cameras. At the start, he speaks with such wistful longing that it makes her heart ache, but then as their friendship grows, his words are laced with reverence and the familiar warmth she associates with him now. 

He talks about getting her fern for her because she reminds him of sunlight, about trying to watch some Doctor Who for her so he understands her better, and she knows this documentary should be about the sales team in general, and no_ t them, _but she’s grateful for the insight into Oliver’s mind during what was one of the most confusing times in her life. 

On screen, the Holiday Party debacle is unfolding and Roy’s shouting about the infamous iPhone and since Felicity doesn’t need to relive that particular mess of events, she turns to Oliver, squeezing his hand to get his attention. He turns to her, arching his brows. 

“I didn’t realise,” she whispers. “Oliver, I was so blind.” 

His cheeks turn a little pink, and his lips press together in a small smile. “Hey, we got here in the end,” he whispers back. Then, because he’s so attuned to her various moods, he frowns, picking up on her slight discomfort. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, getting a little distracted by how the Oliver on the screen in front of her is scowling about his failed gift exchange.

“Imagine if I just bit the bullet and broke up with Cooper earlier and didn’t waste all that time trying to work things out with him...” 

“The important thing is that you did,” Oliver tells her with that infuriating, all-knowing, patented Queen smirk of his. “Also, shh, I wanna watch this part. C’mon, see? We kissed for the first time here.” 

Felicity rolls her eyes at him. Silly man. 

They literally_ lived _ through this, he shouldn’t be as excited as he is about watching this dumb thing. Why is he _ excited _ and not at all embarrassed that all their friends, and the _ entire company _he works for is watching them have their first kiss? 

_ She _ sure is, which is why she keeps her eyes on him and not on the version of them standing barely inches apart on the roof that fateful night. As she dwells on it a little longer, she narrows her eyes and starts gnawing on her bottom lip. 

Seriously. Why is he this excited? 

The light from the screen flickers over his profile, casting flickering shadows over his face. He’s still smiling suspiciously, knees bouncing under their still-clasped hands, strangely riveted by what he’s watching.. 

“Okay. What’s up with you?” she asks, pushing down on his fidgeting knees to keep him still. “You’re being weird.” 

“Can you two idiots shut up?” Adrian’s annoying voice answers her instead, floating her way from behind her. “Some of us want to watch this in peace. Oliver’s talking about wine spilling on his shirt. How embarrassing.” 

She whirls around, armed with a stern glare. Wow, does she not miss him at all. “One, you totally missed the point, and two, you already know what happens between us, Adrian!” 

“Hey, it’s not worth it.” Oliver tugs her back around before the argument escalates, slinging his arm around her shoulders so she can’t face Adrian again. “We’re almost at the end.” 

“Yeah, Oliver, so I don’t understand why -” 

“Shhhhhh!” He places a finger against her lips, and before her tongue can dart out to lick it as punishment, he points it at the screen. _ Rude. _She folds her arms over her chest petulantly, but settles back in her seat to watch the rest of the documentary. 

_ “Yeah, Felicity’s resigned but it’s okay,” _ Oliver’s telling the camera. _ “We’re uh. Well. You already know, I suppose. ‘Cause you were there for all of it. We’re dating now. In secret. But we’re together.” _

He looks extremely pleased with himself, and Felicity figures they must have taped this soon after that fateful tech exhibition that changed her life. He’s grinning from ear to ear and his skin is a little flushed, the same way he’d been for the entire first month of their relationship. All dopey like he’s riding some sort of Felicity high. 

To be fair, it wasn’t like she fared much better, but once she left Queen Consolidated, the camera crew stopped following her around so at least they don’t have incriminating evidence of _ her _being a complete sap. Thank God for small miracles.

_ “It’s been really good. Not that I doubted it, but it’s nice to be right sometimes. And yeah, we’re serious. I think. Well, I hope we are... I want us to be.” _

Felicity chuckles at his uncertainty, filing this particular moment away for future usage. She leans over to brush a kiss against his cheek. “You’re sweet, you know? And we’re very serious, in case you were still wondering.”

Oliver shifts next to her, but doesn’t say a word. He tilts his chin to the screen, imploring her to pay attention. 

_ “I mean, how’s this for serious?” _Screen-Oliver licks as he fishes something out of his pocket. 

Felicity freezes in her seat as she watches the scene unfold before her almost as if it’s playing in slow-motion. 

Screen-Oliver has something in his hand. As he uncurls his fist, he looks down at whatever it is for a second. When he looks back up, he’s smiling so brightly, straight into the camera so it’s like he’s staring _ right at her. _

He holds up his hand that’s cradling what she now recognises as a ring box, next to his face, popping it open deftly like he’s done it a million times before. He turns to it, gazing adoringly at the box.

A ring is nestled in the soft velvet, sparkling, glittering in full High Definition as Felicity’s jaw drops open in shock. The entire theatre gasps along with her. 

_ “Went out and got it after our first date.” _He’s so proud of himself, that cocky bastard. _ “Pretty huh?” _

Felicity’s heart is in her throat. She hears nothing except the rapid thudding of her heartbeat in her ear. Feels nothing except the tight grip of Oliver’s fingers around hers. She can’t watch him on the screen in front of her. Not like this. Turning to face real Oliver, she finds that he’s already looking at her, a hopeful smile adorning his lips, eyes bright with anticipation. 

They both know what’s coming. 

Awareness spreads through her. If it weren’t so dark, he’d be able to tell she’s blushing. Excitement thrums through her, palpable and crackling and this thing that she thinks he’s about to do? In public? In front of everyone? 

Does she_ want _this? To spend forever with him? 

_ Yes. _

“Oliver.”

Her voice doesn’t even sound like hers. Breathless and throaty and just a little caught in her throat. A glint of metal catches her eyes, and there it is, between them, pinched between his fingers, shining in the barely-there light of the theater. 

His voice echoes around her in stereo. 

_ “Gonna ask her to marry me some day.” _

“Marry me.” 

* * *

Six months and three days later, they’re once again gathered with their friends, but this time instead of in a dark, quiet, theatre, it’s at the Queen mansion courtyard, basking in the rare afternoon sunshine, surrounded by pleasant chatter and soothing jazz music playing in the background. 

The main ceremony itself had been a small one; intimate, attended only by close friends and family. In exchange, to appease both his mother and Donna, who, much to their surprise, have become fast friends, their reception is a much bigger affair, with invitations sent out to pretty much everyone that they know. 

Which is why the two of them are huddled together in a corner of the courtyard, partially obstructed by one of the five giant ice sculptures that Moira they insisted they display as decoration. 

They just needed a break from the festivities, that’s all. A quiet moment to bask in the newness of being married, away from the crowd. Felicity fiddles with his bow-tie, lithe fingers tracing nonsensical patterns over the fabric. 

“Even the guys from the documentary are here,” his wife - he grins at the thought of Felicity Smoak, his _ wife, _that’s never going to get old - whispers, more than a little put out. Her eyes are wide with disbelief, startlingly bright, accentuated by the light dusting of makeup on her lids, and he allows himself to get lost in her gaze for a second. 

He really doesn’t care who they’ve invited, not when the only person that matters is right here, in front of him, in one of the most beautiful dress she’s ever laid his eyes on. 

It’s not the same one she wore for the ceremony, that much he’s noticed. This one is more _ her; _ tight, form-fitting, and in a shade of red that speaks of her lesser-known streak of rebellion. The bodice is made of some sort of gauzy, lacy material, soft under his fingers, falling over her curves like it’s second skin. It flares out at the bottom, swirling around her legs and her heels and it’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to drag her inside the house to see if the dress looks better on his floor than on her. 

“How did your mother even-”

“You don’t want to know,” Thea chimes in, popping up with a blinding smile in front of them. “Thought you two could hide out here all alone, did you? Tough. Speech time, lover boy. Mom’s getting cranky.”

He protests, but Thea’s more wilful than he is, and much to his displeasure, he finds himself being pulled out of their hiding spot and back into the fray. 

“It’s just a speech, Ollie. Get through it and we’ll let you get back to staring hopelessly at Felicity.” 

Felicity, bless her, follows him as he meanders his way to the front of the crowd. She curls her entire hand around his thumb like she’s afraid she’s going to lose him if she lets go. 

Hah. Fat chance. 

He picks up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter before he faces everyone. Felicity drops his hand, but stays close. She nods, silently giving him the okay to start. 

“Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming. We,” he turns to Felicity briefly. “Really appreciate your company and that you made the time to celebrate this special day with us.” 

“I’m going to keep this short so we can all get back to the festivities, so please bear with me. The moment I met Felicity I knew she was special. She’s blushing now like she doesn’t believe me, but it’s true. She’s smart, kind, remarkable in every way, and most importantly, she makes me want to be the very best version of myself.” 

“Jesus, Oliver,” Felicity mumbles quietly next to him. She stretches up to kiss his cheek, and her voice drops into a husky whisper. Her breasts press suggestively against his side. “You’re so getting lucky tonight, husband.” 

Heat spreads over his skin, and he has to tamp down the desire that rockets through his blood.The hand not holding his drink snakes around Felicity’s waist, keeping her still and not wriggling next to him. 

He just needs to power through this last part. That’s it. He clears his throat and continues. 

“As kids, you assume your parents are soulmates. It’s no secret that I, well, Thea and I didn't have the most stable home life growing up until quite recently.” He raises his glass of champagne to his mother and Walter, who both smile reassuringly at him. “So, y’know, after a while, I stopped believing it. I laughed at the idea that soulmates even existed.” 

“But... can I just say that _ our _kids? Mine and Felicity’s?” He turns away from the crowd and fixes his gaze on Felicity, tries to convey every iota of love and devotion thrumming in his blood.

_“Our_ kids are going to be right about that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this :) Comments welcome, kudos appreciated. Love you all! 
> 
> Nanowrimo comin' up!!


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